A prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving

THINK I MIGHT BE TOO MUCH OF A WIMP FOR THEM," he
said.
    "I don't think you're a wimp, Owen," I said.
    "BUT YOU THINK YOUR COUSINS WOULD THINK SO?" he said.
    "I don't know," I said.
    "MAYBE I COULD MEET THEM AT YOUR HOUSE, WHEN THEY COME FOR
THANKSGIVING," he suggested. "IT'S FUNNY HOW YOU DON'T INVITE ME OVER
WHEN THEY'RE STAYING HERE."
    ' 'My grandmother thinks there're too many kids in the house
already-when they're here," I explained, but Owen sulked about it so
moodily that I invited him to spend the night, which he always enjoyed. He went
through this ritual of calling his father to ask if it was all right, but it
was always all right with
        Mr. Meany; Owen
stayed at  Front Street so frequently that he kept a toothbrush in my
bathroom, and a pair of pajamas in my closet. And after Dan Needham gave me the
armadillo, Owen grew almost as attached to the little animal-and to Dan-as I
was. When Owen would sleep in the other twin bed in my room, with the night
table between us, we would carefully arrange under the bedside lamp; in exact
profile to both of us, the creature stared at the feet of our beds. The
night-light, which was attached to one of the legs of the night table, shone
upward, illuminating the armadillo's chin and the exposed nostrils of its thin
snout. Owen and I would talk until we were drowsy; but in the morning, I always
noticed that had been moved -its face was turned more toward Owen than to me;
its profile was no longer perfect. And once when I woke up, I saw that Owen was
already awake; he was staring back at the armadillo, and he was smiling. After
Dan Needham's armadillo came into my life, and the first occasion for me to
travel to Sawyer Depot arose, I was not surprised that Owen took this
opportunity to express his concern for the armadillo's well-being.
    "FROM WHAT YOU TELL ME ABOUT YOUR COUSINS," Owen said,
"I DON'T THINK YOU SHOULD TAKE TO SAWYER DEPOT." It had never
occurred to me to take with me, but Owen had clearly given some thought to the
potential tragedy of such a journey. "YOU MIGHT FORGET IT ON THE TRAIN,"
he said, "OR THAT DOG OF THEIRS MIGHT CHEW ON IT. WHAT'S THE DOG'S
NAME?"
    "Firewater," I said.
    "YES, FIREWATER-HE SOUNDS DANGEROUS TO TO ME," Owen
said. "AND IF YOUR COUSINS ARE THESE RUFFIANS, LIKE YOU SAY, THERE'S NO
TELLING WHAT KIND OF GAME THEY MIGHT THINK UP-THEY MIGHT RIP TO PIECES. OR LOSE
IT IN THE SNOW."
    "Yes, you're right," I said.
    "IF THEY WANTED TO TAKE WATERSKIING, COULD YOU STOP
THEM?" he asked.
    "Probably not," I said.
    "THAT'S JUST WHAT I THOUGHT," he said. "YOU
BETTER NOT TAKE WITH YOU."
    "Right," I said.
    "YOU BETTER LET ME TAKE IT HOME. I CAN LOOK AFTER IT WHILE
YOU'RE AWAY- IF IT'S ALL ALONE HERE, ONE OF THE MAIDS MIGHT DO SOMETHING
STUPID-OR THERE COULD BE A FIRE," he said.
    "I never thought of that," I said.
    "WELL, IT WOULD BE VERY SAFE WITH ME," Owen said. Of
course, I agreed. "AND I'VE BEEN THINKING," he added. "OVER NEXT
THANKSGIVING, WHEN YOUR COUSINS ARE HERE, YOU BETTER LET ME TAKE HOME WITH ME
THEN, TOO. IT SOUNDS TO ME LIKE THEY'D BE TOO VIOLENT WITH IT. IT HAS A VERY
DELICATE NOSE-AND THE TAIL CAN BREAK, TOO. AND I DON'T THINK IT'S A GOOD IDEA
TO SHOW YOUR COUSINS THAT GAME WE PLAY WITH IN THE CLOSET WITH YOUR
GRANDFATHER'S CLOTHES," he said. "IT SOUNDS TO ME LIKE THEY'D TRAMPLE
ON IN THE DARK." Or else they'd throw it out the window, I thought.
    "I agree," I said.
    "GOOD," Owen said. "THEN IT'S ALL SETTLED: I'LL
LOOK AFTER WHEN YOU'RE AWAY, AND WHEN YOUR COUSINS ARE HERE, I'LL LOOK AFTER
IT, TOO-OVER NEXT THANKSGIVING, WHEN YOU'RE GOING TO INVITE ME OVER TO MEET
YOUR COUSINS. OKAY?"
    "Okay, Owen," I said.
    "GOOD," he said; he was very pleased about it, if a
trifle nervous. The first time he took home with him, he brought a box stuffed
with cotton-it was such an elaborately conceived and strongly built carrying
case that could have been mailed safely overseas in it. The box, Owen
explained, had