DIVINE CHILD
Evil vs. the Angels of Stony Island
by Jim Heaney

EVEN AFTER ALL THESE YEARS, I wonder what went on in the mind of the man I came to call Larry the Monster. How did he justify what he did? What lies did he have to tell himself in order to live with himself? Or did he just not care?
The first time I saw Jimmy was outside St. Ailbe Church after one of the Sunday Masses. His blond hair was short and his blue eyes twinkled like a little angel’s. The spring breeze ruffled his flowing white surplice so that he looked like a porcelain figurine, and I wanted him for my collection.
While I was watching, a white‑clad arm dropped over his shoulder and pulled him close. Next to the arm was a cross tucked behind a wide belt of black leather. I looked up and found myself eye‑to‑eye with Sister John Christian, and she did not look happy.
Instantly I knew that she knew. One of my little friends had squealed. She slowly extracted the crucifix from her waist and held it facing me. Anybody watching would think she was just adjusting her belt, but I knew better.

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