McGee taunted. “You wearing perfume or something?”
“Mind your own business,” Tim replied.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, you look so good in a skirt.”
Tim felt his temper rising. “Cut it out, McGee, or—”
“Or
what
, altar boy?”
Tim thought for a split second. What was the proper response—turning the other cheek, or breaking the other’s jaw?
He compromised by walking away.
They had reached the age when adolescents suddenly discover the opposite sex—though of course it was not considered manly to admit it.
In Tim’s case, his female classmates had long whispered among themselves about the color of his deep blue eyes and sighed at his indifference. And, since he did not seem to notice them, they began to take the initiative.
One evening, as he emerged from a Latin tutorial session with Father Hanrahan, Tim was surprised to find Isabel O’Brien, her hair cut shorter and her figure grown fuller, waiting for him.
“It’s dark, Tim,” she said in a soft, nervous voice. “Would you mind walking me home?”
He was slightly disoriented, not merely by her request but by the way she was looking at him. He was sure she had some special purpose.
As they walked the first few blocks, it seemed she only wanted to report on his status among the girls in school. But she could not sense how uneasy it made him to hear that the girls thought he was “cute” and one or two actually found him “gorgeous.”
Tim did not know how to respond, so after a moment Isabel persisted.
“Who do you like best?” she asked. “I mean, out of all of us?”
“I … I don’t know. I never really sort of thought about it.”
“Oh,” said Isabel.
Tim was considerably relieved when they reached her front steps. Though it was cold and windy, Isabel did not dash up to the warmth of her home.
Instead, she startled Tim by saying, “It’s okay if you want to kiss me. I mean, I won’t tell anybody.”
Tim lost his breath. He had often fantasized about what it would be like to … touch some of the girls in class. Yet he was afraid of making a fool of himself. Because he did not know what to do.
Without warning she showed him, pulling down his head and pressing her lips against his.
It was a nice feeling, he admitted to himself. Although she was forcing her warm mouth against his so strongly, she was stirring thoughts in him. Like wanting to see what her breasts felt like. Some of the guys had already boasted of accomplishing such things.
But then he did not want to offend Isabel. After a moment he stepped away and said, “I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow, huh?”
“I guess,” she murmured coyly. “Will you walk me home again?”
“Uh … sure. Maybe next week some time.”
Tim’s new demeanor affected everyone around him. Even his aunt and cousins could sense—with a certain awe—that his once-demonic energy had been rechanneled.
“I don’t know what it is,” Tuck complained to Cassie, “but something’s happened to the kid. He’s become such a goody-goody.”
Part of the explanation was that serving publicly now gave him the chance to pray more often, without having to be furtive about his devotion to the Virgin.
Within six months he had advanced in rank and was swinging the thurible itself in the Mass procession.
They had already started Latin in class, and Timothy could easily translate such passages as the beginning of the Gospel of John:
In principio erat Verbum
,
et Verbum erat apud Deum
,
et Deus erat Verbum.
In the beginning was the Word
,
and the Word was with God
,
and the Word was God.
But his mind was too hungry to be satisfied with a diet of simple scriptural sentences, and Father Joe was morethan happy to advance his knowledge of the holy language of Catholic Scripture.
Once again, he marveled at Timothy’s prodigious memory, as well as the intensity of his desire to learn.
“Tim,” Father Hanrahan remarked one day with undisguised pride, “I can only
“Mind your own business,” Tim replied.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, you look so good in a skirt.”
Tim felt his temper rising. “Cut it out, McGee, or—”
“Or
what
, altar boy?”
Tim thought for a split second. What was the proper response—turning the other cheek, or breaking the other’s jaw?
He compromised by walking away.
They had reached the age when adolescents suddenly discover the opposite sex—though of course it was not considered manly to admit it.
In Tim’s case, his female classmates had long whispered among themselves about the color of his deep blue eyes and sighed at his indifference. And, since he did not seem to notice them, they began to take the initiative.
One evening, as he emerged from a Latin tutorial session with Father Hanrahan, Tim was surprised to find Isabel O’Brien, her hair cut shorter and her figure grown fuller, waiting for him.
“It’s dark, Tim,” she said in a soft, nervous voice. “Would you mind walking me home?”
He was slightly disoriented, not merely by her request but by the way she was looking at him. He was sure she had some special purpose.
As they walked the first few blocks, it seemed she only wanted to report on his status among the girls in school. But she could not sense how uneasy it made him to hear that the girls thought he was “cute” and one or two actually found him “gorgeous.”
Tim did not know how to respond, so after a moment Isabel persisted.
“Who do you like best?” she asked. “I mean, out of all of us?”
“I … I don’t know. I never really sort of thought about it.”
“Oh,” said Isabel.
Tim was considerably relieved when they reached her front steps. Though it was cold and windy, Isabel did not dash up to the warmth of her home.
Instead, she startled Tim by saying, “It’s okay if you want to kiss me. I mean, I won’t tell anybody.”
Tim lost his breath. He had often fantasized about what it would be like to … touch some of the girls in class. Yet he was afraid of making a fool of himself. Because he did not know what to do.
Without warning she showed him, pulling down his head and pressing her lips against his.
It was a nice feeling, he admitted to himself. Although she was forcing her warm mouth against his so strongly, she was stirring thoughts in him. Like wanting to see what her breasts felt like. Some of the guys had already boasted of accomplishing such things.
But then he did not want to offend Isabel. After a moment he stepped away and said, “I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow, huh?”
“I guess,” she murmured coyly. “Will you walk me home again?”
“Uh … sure. Maybe next week some time.”
Tim’s new demeanor affected everyone around him. Even his aunt and cousins could sense—with a certain awe—that his once-demonic energy had been rechanneled.
“I don’t know what it is,” Tuck complained to Cassie, “but something’s happened to the kid. He’s become such a goody-goody.”
Part of the explanation was that serving publicly now gave him the chance to pray more often, without having to be furtive about his devotion to the Virgin.
Within six months he had advanced in rank and was swinging the thurible itself in the Mass procession.
They had already started Latin in class, and Timothy could easily translate such passages as the beginning of the Gospel of John:
In principio erat Verbum
,
et Verbum erat apud Deum
,
et Deus erat Verbum.
In the beginning was the Word
,
and the Word was with God
,
and the Word was God.
But his mind was too hungry to be satisfied with a diet of simple scriptural sentences, and Father Joe was morethan happy to advance his knowledge of the holy language of Catholic Scripture.
Once again, he marveled at Timothy’s prodigious memory, as well as the intensity of his desire to learn.
“Tim,” Father Hanrahan remarked one day with undisguised pride, “I can only
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