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Forgive me, Father,
for I have sinned.
It has been one week
since my last confession.
I took the Lord's name
in vain 211 times.
Goddamn it.
I had 22 impure thoughts.
- I contemplated murder.
- Murder?
Only in thought, Father.
Only in thought.
Get back here, you bastards.
Surely there must be some
self-abuse, my son.
I have committed
22 sins of the flesh.
You're a pervert.
You're not even making an appearance
in purgatory with that record.
Really? I had no idea.
I'm not even sure I have
the power to forgive you.
Please, Father.
I'll try harder.
That's the problem.
You should talk to a priest,
not me, kid.
I can't believe
I actually told them...
that I'd abused myself
22 times in the last week.
Twenty-two times?
And I thought
I was going to hell.
Is it Grace or Gracie
for your grandmother?
Come on!
Put out that cigarette.
You're breaking school rules.
Hey, Chester, I need to smoke.
It calms my nerves.
We're having confession
later today.
Thought you might like
to join us, Walker.
Think there's a world record
for hanging?
Probably not.
Even if there isn't, I could announce
that I'm gonna set one.
Look, I can hang here all day.
Did you see that attempted catch?
Who would've guessed
she'd have such reach?
Get me Mr. Walker. Again.
You know, the green of your sweater
brings out the color of your eyes.
Makes them sparkle.
That's the sweetest thing
anybody ever said to me.
Father Fitzpatrick will see you now.
Thank you.
Good afternoon, Father.
How are you today?
You were smoking
on school property.
Technically, yes...
but I was practically
off the grounds.
Technicalities are the cornerstone,
Mr. Walker.
Now there's too much documentation
on you already.
Are you purposefully trying to get
yourself kicked out of St. Magnus...
or is there another reason
I'm completely overlooking...
for your utter inability to fit in?
I'm destined for greatness.
You're 14 years old.
Greatness is not an option.
Now don't you think your grandparents
have enough to worry about?
A week of weeding
Father Zinger's gardens. That's all.
But, Father, I was only smoking.
Two weeks.
That will be all.
And one thing more.
Nothing gets by me,
Mr. Walker.
Absolutely nothing.
- Mr. Walker.
- Here's my late slip.
- You think so?
- Nietzsche does.
Independent seatwork
for the remainder of the period.
Have you read Nietzsche?
Is he that Chinese guy?
No, he's that philosopher guy.
Was he Catholic?
Seems odd not to be studying Catholics
in religion class.
Besides, I thought we were
having a test.
We're not. It's far too sunny out
for testing. Wouldn't you agree?
I'm hoping Nietzsche will be
better for your brain.
Well, I suppose so.
Sorry about your face.
What's wrong with my face?
I meant the cut from baseball.
In fact, it's a wonderful face.
It's about time
we went on a date, Collins.
Really, Walker?
Dinner, maybe.
Something formal,
but within bike-riding distance.
I want our first date
to be memorable.
And I want it to be
Good Friday every day.
Good! Next Friday night.
I'll come by around 7:00.
No, make that 7:30...
just to give you some extra time
to get ready.
Paging Dr. Edwards.
Please come to Admitting.
How's it going,
my Mr. Walker?
Mom, absolutely
couldn't be any better.
Growing wings as we speak.
I figured as much.
Everything still working out
staying at Chester's house?
I like it there. Honest.
Do you go by the house?
Just to cut the grass.
Here you go, Emma.
Hello, Ralph.
Hey, Alice,
is that a new hair clip?
Don't mess with me, kid.
No, seriously.
It looks stunning.
Did you conquer the world today,
my Mr. Walker?
I've got a date with Claire
next Friday.
I like that girl.
I bought this for you.
I know, and I feel the same.
Not quite the haircut
I had in mind.
I think it's too short.
You could pull it off.


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