The Chamber of Five (14 page)

“Because it’s right.”

I shook my head. “You’re giving up Pilkney for it.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I am.”

“Why?”

“I told you. This is right.”

“I can’t let you do that. I’m getting you the letter.”

“No.”

I shifted. “You’re making this really hard.”

“Maybe.”

“If none of this was happening, you’d be going there. That’s wrong, Elvis. Way wrong.”

“That’s life.”

Moments passed, the dusty room silent. “So what now?” I said.

“So we keep on with what we’re doing,” he laughed. “And I’ll carry pepper spray from now on.”

“We can bail any time.”

“We can beat him, Jason.”

I stood, nodding even as my insides twisted and churned. “Ride home?”

“Sure. I’m helping my mom size dresses.”

“Size dresses?”

“Yeah. I have to wear them while she measures.”

“You are weird, you know that?”

He clucked. “Yeah, I know. I just have to think of an excuse for a bloody mouth. You can help me with that.”

I
DIDN’T REALLY
feel like James Bond or Inspector Gadget as I sat on the curb across the street from Thomas Singletary’s apartment building. More like a fish out of the aquarium that was my life. I’d ditched my car in the parking lot of a Rite Aid a mile up the hill, and I’d walked, now sitting on the curb for the last hour waiting for him to show himself. I read my watch. Nine-thirty-five.

I shivered, glancing up and down the dark street, then focused on the building entrance. I could have just gone in and knocked, but I didn’t. It was like a breach of territory, and his warning about visiting his apartment kept me back. Courtesy, I thought, chuckling at what a liar I was.

I didn’t knock on his door because I was frightened to. Something about Thomas Singletary scared the living shit out of me.

“Homeless now?”

I started, looking to my left, and of course, like a silent sentinel, Thomas was next to a garbage can chained to a
NO PARKING
signpost. I stood. “No.”

He smiled. “You shouldn’t be in this neighborhood. You might get hurt.”

I looked around. “Not that bad.”

He laughed this time. “You are so full of shit.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“There were fourteen murders in this city last year. Nine of them were committed within ten blocks of here.” He studied me, humor in his eyes. “How many in your neighborhood?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

“Fine. None.”

He nodded. “Why are you here?”

“This is going too far.”

“What is?”

I sighed. “This crap with the Chamber and Carter.”

He shrugged. “Define
too far.
”

I clenched my teeth. “Too far is almost having my friend’s arms broken, you asshole. It’s not just me and you anymore.”

“Key word
almost
. It didn’t happen.”

I stared at him. “You knew about it?”

“Duh. Remember the Chamber? Those little electronic things you found? Eyes and ears.”

“And you let it happen.”

“I’ve explained myself enough. You should know by now I roll my own dice.”

“He doesn’t have anything to do with this, and you’re standing there telling me it wouldn’t bother you a bit to see the guy at school tomorrow with both his arms in casts.” I shook my head. “You’re causing all of this.”

“I didn’t cause anything. I told you from the beginning to stay out of things, but you didn’t, so if you want to blame anybody, look in the mirror.”

I set my jaw, pissed off. “I told Carter it was you,” I lied.

“I figured you would.”

“Yeah, I did. And now I’m telling you to stop.”

“Or what?”

I was at my wit’s end. Or what? Or nothing. I couldn’t make anybody stop anything. “Why are you after Carter?”

“My business, not yours.”

“No, it
is
my business, because Carter is going to keep coming after me if I don’t get you to stop. And that means he’ll go after Elvis and Brooke and anybody else who gets in the way.”

He smiled. “Then it looks like you have a problem.”

“No, it means you have a problem. I’ll take you out before they get hurt, Thomas. I will.”

“You’ll take me out, huh?” He stepped closer. “I own you, motherfucker.”

I stepped up to him. “Don’t threaten me.”

“You going to hit me now, big boy? You think that will get you out of this mess?”

A moment passed. “Who are you?” I said.

“Nobody you’d ever want to know.”

I stepped back, utterly frustrated. “Carter is scared shitless of you, and Kennedy won’t touch you. Why?”

“Now you’re getting it. Carter is scared of me because he has no control over me, and Kennedy, well, let’s just say Kennedy is a pill popper with a … confidential rehab file. He and I struck a deal. Sort of like a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ thing.”

“Pills? How’d you find out?”

He laughed. “God, you really are stupid. Come on, Jason, get with it. You read my file. I’m a hacker. That’s what I do. I found out who his psych doctor was and took a spin through his file system.”

Unease filled me as I realized this went further than anything I knew. “You hacked your grade records to get into Lambert, didn’t you?”

“D’oh. Now I let it out.” He smirked. “Don’t tell anybody, okay? I wouldn’t want to be embarrassed if all my friends found out I wasn’t brilliant.”

“Why come to Lambert in the first place?”

He turned away. “We’re done talking.”

I stared at his back, calling after him, “What are you going to do?”

His only answer was a middle finger thrown my way.

“I
’M GOING TO PUKE.
”

I looked at Elvis. He wore a suit and tie, and had his hair combed, greased, and parted like a kid stuck forever in the fifties. “Your mom did your hair, huh?”

He nodded, adjusting his coat. His hands shook. “She took me to Sears last night and got the suit. She usually makes everything, but she told me this was special.”

“They’re cool, aren’t they?”

“My parents? Yeah.”

We stood behind the stage curtain with the other candidates, readying ourselves for campaign speeches. The auditorium was packed. We’d worked on individual campaign ads in the audio/visual room for the last two days, too, and all candidates would have theirs played on the projector screen after giving their speeches.

With voting immediately following, this would be the big moment. Elvis, myself, and Brooke were basically campaigning as a team, and we’d blended our speeches, even combining our video. Today would also be the day I would declare Singletary as a candidate running on our platform, and that a vote for him was a vote for us.

Either way, the lines of battle would be clearly drawn, then.

Woodsie sat in a chair to the side, nonchalant as usual. I walked over to him, nodding. “Woods.”

“Hey, Jason.”

“You ready?”

“Sure.”

I breathed, calming myself. “Carter gave me an ultimatum.”

Woodsie nodded. “I know.”

Silence followed, and rage built in me. “You knew Kennedy was going to do it?”

“No. Carter called a meeting last night. Explained the situation.” He swallowed, and a moment passed. “So you’re in a big mess.”

“Yeah.”

He furrowed his brow. “Are you lying to Carter, or did you cut a real deal with him about Singletary?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you’d better know soon, because the guy is in psycho mode.”

“What did he say? Does he believe me?”

“Carter never believes anybody.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

He stood. “You know your answer, Jason. You just don’t want to face it.”

“Maybe.”

He looked across the room, to where Brooke and Elvis stood. “He could be the next Einstein.”

“You love rubbing things in.”

He shrugged. “Just the truth.”

“I need that letter for him.”

“You could forge one.”

“No. I might stoop low, but not that low.”

“So it comes down to Singletary, who’s about as crazy as Carter, or Elvis, who doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

Silence.

He went on. “Jason, if you dump Singletary, I can fill his spot. No harm done, then.”

“I know.”

He groaned. “Oh no.”

“What?” I said.

“I’ve heard that in your voice before.”

“What?”

“You were about to say that my taking Singletary’s place wasn’t the point, weren’t you?”

“Yes. Because it’s not the point. Carter would win, and besides, I’m not going to get Singletary kicked out of Lambert.”

“But with me on the council it wouldn’t matter.”

“Yes, it would. To me.”

He eyed me. “Crap. You like Singletary, don’t you?”

“No. He’s just … there’s something about the guy. Believe me, he’s just about as psycho as Carter, but different.”

He rocked on his heels. “You do know that the whole school knows about Singletary joining the race, right?”

I glanced at him.

He nodded. “Word got out.”

“Who?”

“Me,” he said.

I deflated. “Why?”

“Well, after Elvis almost had his arms broken and you and Carter came to ‘terms’ about Singletary, I thought a leak would hedge things so that I wouldn’t win and have to decline.” He swallowed, looking across the auditorium. “And it did hedge things without getting anybody hurt by Carter. But now you’ve got every person in the place waiting for the messiah to deliver his message.”

“Thanks. Now if I don’t do it, the whole school will hate me.”

He laughed, nodding at the growing crowd. “Pretty much.”

“I’m screwed.”

“Yeah.”

I shook my head. “Did Carter say why he’s bombing to get Singletary out? I just can’t figure out how it all started.”

“Does there need to be a reason?”

I shrugged. “True.”

He slid me a look. “I wonder how the kid knew about the order to break his arm.”

“He knows a lot,” I said.

“You tell him?”

“No. But I’d watch what you say in the Chamber.”

As the auditorium filled and the lights dimmed, we sat on the stage in metal chairs, all of us lined up like monkeys in a row. One chair remained empty. Thomas Singletary would be the surprise announcement of the day. Or was supposed to have been. I couldn’t help shuddering at the idea of it. Brooke had thought
it up and I’d agreed. It would add mystery, excitement, and flavor to the election. A coup, she’d said, laughing. Now it would be my demise, and my chest tightened as I thought about what I should do.

Mr. Belmont, my old English teacher, stepped up to the microphone. Polished and smooth, his hands resting on each side of the podium like a preacher’s, he began with a broad grin. “Well, here we are. The Lambert elections. Once again, we will be deciding who is best suited to lead us into the future, and today we’ll be greeted with each candidate’s vision of that future. And after we’ve seen what these fine speakers can offer, you’ll be excused to vote.” He swept his arm over us. The auditorium burst with applause. He went on, explaining how the afternoon would proceed, and asking that applause be held until each candidate was finished with the video presentation. Then he announced the first candidate, Lawrence Wolke, who was running for treasurer. His mother was the senior vice president of LoCorp, the largest defense contractor in the state.

As he took the podium, he cleared his throat and began. I didn’t hear a word. The pimply-faced kid was nice enough, but I was like a little boy listening to a lecture, my mind on Singletary and Carter and Elvis. Woodside had taken the situation and sharpened it to a razor’s edge, and it sliced my insides apart like a whirlwind ninja on a rampage. Elvis was the only one with no blood on his hands, but he was the one who could pay the biggest price.

A tense anticipation hung over the audience as each candidate stepped up to the podium. The reaction to each video
presentation, no matter how well done, was subdued and expectant. Almost like a calm before the storm.

Sitting on the stage with everybody, a movement at the edge of the curtain caught my eye. A freshman silently handed a folded piece of paper to Vivica Peterson, who sat closest to the curtain and was running against Elvis for treasurer. The frosh whispered in her ear; she nodded, then passed the paper to the next person. It made its way down to me. My name was written on it.

As the candidate preceding us droned on about budgets and cost-effective measures that would save the school money while “enhancing the viable academic programs that are a treasure to Lambert,” I opened up the paper. It read:

I took a deep breath, studying the words, then folded it up. A chill ran through me. I raised my eyes to the crowd, scanning the rows. At the very back, standing and leaning against the right-side entrance, was Carter, his pose laconic, but his eyes burning into me through the dimness. Even at this distance, his intensity scared the living crap out of me.

I tore my stare from him and saw Kennedy sitting next to Steven Lotus in the third row. He smiled, blew me a kiss, then nodded to Brooke as he fluttered his tongue in a grotesque message that was as clear as the note.

I wanted to run. To hide. And I had minutes to decide who I would betray. Minutes to find a way out of this trap. I slid my
hand to Brooke, sitting next to me, taking her hand in mine and squeezing. She squeezed back, keeping her eyes forward. “Nervous?” she whispered.

I squeezed her hand again as the video presentation ended and Mr. Belmont rose to introduce me as a candidate for president. As he finished and gestured my way, I took a breath and rose, walking to the podium. Woodsie shook my hand as I passed, whispering in my ear, “Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall …”

I took the podium, my back sweaty from the seat and my legs weak. I grasped the sides of the wood-veneered lectern with trembling fingers, my mind racing, my ribs clutching my heart like a vise. I stood in a sound vacuum; not a peep could be heard as the student body stared at me, waiting. Then I saw him.