his head.
“I think he stayed back at the school with the grade ones.”
Marcus looked relieved. For reasons David never understood, Marcus felt a need to watch over Leonard.
David looked ahead at Flannery and tried to get his attention, but Flannery’s thoughts were elsewhere. Some of the girls were talking amongst themselves. Mr. Wickenhauser made no attempt to stop them.
During Mass a silent rage moved through the church. Teachers looked suspiciously at the children but said nothing as small heads relayed messages back and forth. Father O’Brian rambled through the Latin of the Mass. The choir sang though not as enthusiastically as previously. Sister Bernadette, with the use of a clicker, still choreographed the various rituals of the Mass but the children responded robotically. Teachers could be seen moving through the pews to chastise various children for their wayward behaviour, but the chattering continued. David got the message. Everyone was to meet at Ashbourne Variety Smoke Shop after church.
Father O’Brian got up in front of the gathered children and read the gospel. Then he gave a ponderous sermon about honoring one’s parents and teachers. Eyes glazed over. Thoughts returned to the humiliation at the hands of the Protestants earlier that morning. The grade two’s became restless. Several children fell asleep in the pews. Father O’Brian smiled and made a joke that only the teachers laughed at.
After church the teachers piled into their cars and sped back to the school. The children were dismissed and sent home for lunch as was usual after First Friday Mass. By the time David and Marcus got to Ashbourne Variety Smoke Shop, Flannery was standing on top of a car giving a speech to a large crowd of children.
“Isn’t he great!” Marcus smiled with wonder at the power of their suburban Lenin.
As Flannery spoke more and more children gathered. The majority were boys although the O’Reilly sisters and Sandra Anderson showed up. Soon the parking lot was filled and the kids began spilling out into the hydro field. One of the merchants, Duke of Duke’s Sporting Shop, came outside to investigate.
“What’s going on?” Duke asked Wilson. Duke, a middle aged balding man, had been an Olympic skater and was known throughout the area for his athletic feats.
Wilson smiled, “War, sir.”
“War, eh?” Duke laughed. “You kids are always coming up with something new, but shouldn’t you kids be in school?”
A plan had been hastily enacted. The school was split into three divisions, one under Flannery ‘s command, one under Cormier’s, and the third commanded by Penny. Surprising to all was that the grade eights submitted to the authority of the Triumvirate, even though all three commanders were a year younger.
“You all know what happened,” Flannery yelled. “This is not the time for chickens. This isn’t kids’ stuff anymore.”
The three divisions made their way toward the public school, in rows of two, disciplined with a fierceness of purpose. Though the children chatted amongst themselves, there was a surprising sobriety and silence with their movement, and only one defection. Billy Williams had to rush home to go to the washroom.
Arriving at Wedgewood School, the kids hid in the ditches and behind the snow forts constructed by the Protestants. They began to make snowballs. Instructions were passed on. No one was to do anything, speak, laugh, or throw a snowball, until Flannery gave the command. Having gathered enough ammunition, the troops waited. Flannery crawled across the schoolyard and hit behind a large snowball, visible to all his army but invisible to anyone inside the school. There was an eerie silence over the schoolyard as the Catholic army waited for the noon hour bell to ring.
“I don’t care what happens to us after,” Marcus whispered to David. “This is going to be worth it.”
Terry crawled up beside David.
“I wish we had guns,” he said.
David looked around at all the other children, armed and waiting to do battle. What would happen afterwards? David was apprehensive and excited. Never before had his anger felt so delicious. The bell went. David’s pulse quickened. He dropped the snowball in his hands, squeezing it too tightly. There was a long pause. Everything was so peaceful and quiet, like a Christmas card.
The doors of the school opened. Flannery raised his arm and paused. Everyone caught their breath. Children began to funnel out of the building, laughing and talking to each other, glad to be out of school, glad to be going home for lunch. Still Flannery waited. More children moved out.
“Come on!” Penny said impatiently, biting down on his words.
“We gotta throw them now,” Higgins cried.
“What’s he waiting for?” Wilson murmured.
“Wait!” Cormier whispered to his troops.
Flannery dropped his arm. Snowballs were released, released in such a flurry and in such quantity that it must have seemed to the kids pouring out of Wedgewood Public School that they were being buried under an avalanche. The Protestants started screaming. Another flurry was released. Kids behind the first wave of victims, not realizing the massacre that was occurring in front of them pushed against the kids who were attempting to retreat into the school. The snowballs continued to rain down. Kids were being trampled. Some children were crying. All were screaming. Windows were broken. A couple of teachers attempted to leave the building but they too became victims of the vengeance.
Finally all the Protestants managed to get back into the safety of the school. A few more scattered snowballs were thrown. A male teacher, some said the vice-principal of the school, left the building attempting to confront the attackers. He was deluged. When he ran back into the building, a deafening roar went up from the Catholic army. And then, in the distance, the children heard police sirens.
Parents were called. Mr. Wickenhauser and Sister Bernadette toured the classrooms looking for the organizers of the attack on Wedgewood School. Threats were made. Father O’Brian was called to the school to address the children in the auditorium on the evil they had enacted. A police officer stood beside him. No one spoke. No kid, no matter how much they were brow beaten, said a word. There were to be no scapegoats. No examples were to be made.
As a punishment, the children were to be dismissed fifteen minutes later for the rest of the school year. All extra-curricular activities were suspended. No one complained. Children were warned about any future incidents. They needn’t have threatened the children. They’d had their revenge.
That afternoon snow began to fall again. The children who had to pass the public school were instructed to call a parent to pick them up. Marcus couldn’t keep a smile off this face.
“Knock it off!” Mr. Wickenhauser barked.
“Yes, sir!” Marcus responded but couldn’t help himself.
Flannery and Cormier went home that evening with arms around each other’s shoulders. Other children walked with a renewed confidence, a wonderful sense of well-being. Sister Bernadette stood outside the school to make sure that no one headed toward the public school. David walked home with his sister. Sandra kept asking about the battle. Like most of the girls she had gone home after church and had only heard of the fighting second hand. David filled her in on the details.
“I can’t wait to tell mom,” she said.
“Don’t!” David said with such firmness that his sister nodded in compliance.
When they arrived home Sandra asked her mother if she could go out and play. Immediately she ran over to Janie Anderson’s house. Sandra had to tell someone about the battle.
After David was home for a while, he got the urge to check out the scene of the battle. It was four thirty. He was sure all the Protestants had gone home. In the kitchen Sandra, who had just returned from her friend’s, talked to her mother about taking figure skating lessons. David slipped out and down the street to pick up Marcus, but Marcus was not allowed to leave his house.
“My mother is really pissed. She thinks it’s going to be the beginning of trouble.”
Marcus smiled then showed David the silver dol
lar his grandfather had given him.
“I’ve never seen the old man so happy,” Marcus added. “He thinks we’re all heroes.”
David decided to go alone. The snow melted on his face, each flake tasting like honey. The cold air felt fresh and alive in his lungs. David thought he could run all the way to the public school. Marcus had been right. It was worth it. When David reached the edge of the Wedgewood schoolyard, there was an ominous silence. He hadn’t wanted to go any closer to the building but the snow was falling so hard now that it was impossible to see what damage had been inflicted on the school. Cautiously he made his way across the schoolyard, stopping every few feet to look around. There were still hundreds of snowballs on the battlefield but they would soon be covered in the snow that was falling. By tomorrow all signs of the fighting would be buried. David picked up a snowball in case he needed it. But there was no sign of anyone around.
About half way across David spotted something on the ground. It looked like a glove. David dropped his snowball and picked up the object. It was Leonard’s cap, the older boy who always wore a suit. Leonard was never seen without his cap. There was blood on it. David looked around and listened. In the depth of his hearing he thought he heard voices. David moved on. The snow was falling so heavily that it was impossible to see more than a few feet in front. David listened but all he could hear was