smoke and glass, had Prefect Provolini and maintenance man Van Eyck not grabbed Dodge and hauled him away, sparks and electronic pops issuing from the slain machine. All the boys who had been watching NBC on the one set switched to CBS on the surviving one, and Dodge, disarmed, hunkered down along the cinderwall and bawled, blubbering over and over again his vague apologies -- to whom he wasn't sure, or for what. The boys felt doubly cheated, losing Kennedy and Dodge both in one day. All felt cheated, drained. They paced about the rec room, the refectory, the walking-pond like frightened amnesiacs. It was as if, looking back, they knew that a tree which had seemed dead and bare for years were suddenly struck by lightning, and a thousand white doves rose up out of its hollow. And now the doves had flown back into the tree, and the tree sealed up again forever.
+++ EARLIER THAT YEAR, IN THE SUMMER, the seminary's recruiter, Father Garrity, had taken Marty aside and congratulated him on drawing Hal Dodge as his "big brother" for the coming year. "Dodge's a fine young man," the priest had said, "he runs like a cheetah and he can pull the curve. When God made Hal Dodge he threw away the mold." But the school year hadn't even begun before Marty and Dodge went separate ways. Hal was stuck in a certain dull,
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