The conversation ended pleasantly enough, with everyone concluding that this would be a good “teachable moment” for all the students and some of the faculty about judging by appearances. Father Russell, who’d just joined us, would take the lead there. Father Peter Russell spoke softly, sported thick glasses, and stood maybe about a slight five foot four when he could stand, which was not often. I think very few in the parish knew that he was once an elite gymnast before the car crash that permanently iced his Olympic aspirations and put him in his wheelchair. I was the only one there who’d known him from back then.

“Is Mr. Wells free this afternoon?” he asked of the boys’ gym teacher, a former college football player and ex-Marine whose reputation for toughness matched his rugged, weathered, and generally intimidating appearance. “If so, I’d like him and the rest of the school to join us in the gym at two. I have an idea.”

But just before we parted ways, I asked if there was time for a quick confession. Father Russell glanced at Sister Xavier, Mrs. Evans, and Ian, who took their cues and left. “I’d feel a bit weird helping teach kids how to see past appearances, when I caved to my self-consciousness this morning and lied about wearing a costume.”

I relayed to him everything I had done this morning. He listened and nodded slowly. “I see what the trouble is here, Vic,” he said after I’d finished. “It is smart to prepare for the worst case scenarios. Yeah, some people will fear you. Still, as I hope you’ve noticed, not everyone does. It’s not your place to judge people for things they may or may not even do or think any more than it’s theirs to judge you for how you look.

“Here’s what I would suggest. Try to go about your business without any more deception. Only shield yourself if you see evidence that people will find your appearance hazardously disruptive. As for the lighter incident, I think you need to figure out how you did that so you can control it and make sure that doesn’t happen again. Furthermore, with all this going on, I think it’s even more important than ever before to watch your temper.”

“Understood,” I concurred as I braced myself. I had known Father Pete since he and I were in high school as a very fun and affable guy, but I always could tell he was a good listener in Confession because he never let me off with just a couple of Hail Marys for penance.

“So, for your penance,” he continued, “say a rosary on the Luminous Mysteries. Also, you will need to do without that X-Men DVD you loaned me for another day. Finally, I’ll need you to help out at the assembly if you can.”

“Pete!” I said, forgetting in my horror to call him Father. “I don’t want to make a spectacle of myself in front of the school.”

Father Pete shrugged. “I didn’t want to be the poster boy for the parish ADA compliance campaign either, but the renovations needed to happen, and not just for me. Do you know for sure that no one else will wake up just as you did this morning? We can’t choose the crosses we’ve been given, only if we bear them well.”

“You’re right,” I sighed. “I think the rest of my workday is shot, anyway. I’ll tell Dirk I won’t be back in this afternoon.”

And I’d tell him the truth as to why.