The Chamber of Five (7 page)

“What? Me? I’m simple.”

“Why are Kennedy and Steven in the Chamber? I can understand Woodside, because he’s got a brain and he’s a decent guy, but them?”

He studied my face. “Listen, Jason, I know you don’t like me. That’s a given. And honestly, I don’t like you. But you know why we have this problem? It’s because we’re both strong. Kennedy and Steven aren’t. They think they are, but they’re not, and that’s what makes them useful. They do what they’re told if they’re made to feel important. Thinking doesn’t have much to do with it. And Woodsie, well, Woodsie is the brain behind our budget, and his father, well, that goes without saying, so he’s in. It’s simple.”

“Why me, then? If you knew I’d be a hassle, why?”

A cloud crossed his eyes. “You were chosen because we need strength, Jason. The Chamber is bigger than just me.”

“I don’t fit.”

He shook his head. “Yes, you do.”

“Why?”

“Because you are who you are, and though I don’t like to admit it, your father has … influenced the school quite a bit.” He sighed. “Are we done with our little conversation here? I don’t like being seen around vandalized property. It makes my skin itch.”

“I don’t need help with the kid. Stay out of it.”

He smirked. “Put up or shut up, Jason, as the saying goes.”

“Why does he mean so much to you?”

He stepped away from the car, ignoring me. “I was called into the chancellor’s office today about the food drive, Jason. Can I give you some advice?”

I smirked now. “Fire away, Carter.”

“You can’t hurt me. And if you do anything foolish like that again, you’ll pay.”

“A
RE YOU STILL
mad about the windshield?”

Dad didn’t turn from the desk in his study, keeping his eyes on the computer screen and tapping a key. “Goddamned computers. I hate them.”

“What’s the problem?”

“There wouldn’t be a problem if I knew what the problem was, would there?”

I walked in, leaning over his shoulder and taking the mouse from his hand. “See? The screen is frozen. Do this.” I punched the
CTRL, ALT
, and
DELETE
keys, and a box appeared, notifying the user of a nonresponsive program. “You’ll lose some material since your last save, but it’s the only way I know.”

“Just make the damn thing work.”

I clicked on the box, and in a minute, the frozen screen disappeared. “Click on the program now.”

He did, and it popped up. “Good.”

I leaned against the corner of his desk. After the conversation with Carter, I knew he wasn’t the one who’d picked me. The orders had come from higher up. “You talked to the chancellor at the beginning of school, didn’t you? About the Chamber?”

He nodded, still looking at the screen. You didn’t have a conversation with my father. You had a conversation with the back of his head while he was doing something else.

“What about it?” I asked.

“Your new position.”

“What did you do, Dad?”

“Son, I’ve work to do.”

“Tell me.”

He grunted, then sat back in his chair. “I’m busy, Jason. This session is going to be a war. The Republicans have a good chance at taking control if we don’t do some damage control. Can you give it a break for once? Just once?”

“You talked with Chancellor Patterson about the new science and technology wing.”

He turned to me. “My son does attend the school, doesn’t he? Or rather, I pay a ton of money for him to get mediocre grades while complaining about his spoiled-rotten life.”

I sighed. “You made it so I was chosen for the Chamber, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“What did you do, then?”

He frowned. “I did my job, son.”

“Tell me.”

He furrowed his brow, irritated. “I pulled strings, Jason, just
like you’d do for your son. Like you will do for your son. Is that wrong?”

“What strings?”

“I let the chancellor know that there happened to be a couple of my supporters who had interests in school grants and improvement issues. I offered to direct things his way if things went your way.”

I stared at him. My dad’s entire life was backroom deals and manipulation, and I had a sudden pang of self-loathing thinking I’d done the very same thing to Patterson today to get Carter in hot water. “And you let him know that the chances of a private donation would be pretty good if I was in the Chamber, didn’t you?”

“Son, life is about favors. I take care of the people who take care of me.”

“You weren’t elected just to care about who takes care of you. That’s wrong.”

He settled in, and I got ready for another lecture on politics in America. In other words, how to screw people over without making them feel screwed over. For the thousandth time, I made a bet with myself. He’d ask a question next. Every time he was about to go on and on about something, he started with a question. He nodded. “How do you think I win elections?”

I looked at the ceiling. I should be rich. I win bets all the time, I thought. I should move to Vegas and be a professional. “You win elections by knowing the richest people in your district.” I shrugged. “They give you money, you use it to plaster yourself all over the place, then you do whatever they want when you win.”

He sighed, shaking his head like I was the dumbest idiot in the world. “The
people
vote, Jason. Not just the rich. If the people don’t want me doing what I do, it is their right to vote me out. This is America.”

“Sure. But they don’t know half the crap you do.”

“Like what, Jason? Tell me what I do.”

“Okay, fine. You’re prounion as a Democrat, then you meet with Michael Bosworth two months ago.”

He shifted in his seat. “And?”

“And so Bosworth Distributing is moving its headquarters here now.”

“So it’s wrong bringing business and jobs and money to my district?”

“No. But Bosworth is nonunion.”

“I represent
all
of my citizens, Jason. Not just union workers.”

“Yeah, sure. So you meet with Bosworth, they get a state-tax break because your enemies, the Republicans, passed a corporate break for new business that
you
voted against, and now Bosworth is competing with your biggest distributing contributor. And nobody can pin a thing on you. Especially the fact that after you met with Bosworth, you invested over a million dollars in the company under Mom’s maiden name.”

He narrowed his eyes. “My personal business is
mine
. You understand that, Jason? I brought jobs here when we needed jobs. End of story.”

“It’s wrong.”

“It’s life. Business. Get used to it.”

“You play both sides just to get what you want, and I’m just saying I don’t want you to do that at Lambert.”

His face darkened. “You have
no
say in what I do or don’t do.”

I thought about Carter and the Chamber and Chancellor Patterson playing some sort of game, and they all sounded the same. Power. It was all power. I thought about Elvis and his dad, and how they were the ones who were manipulated and used. “I want out of Lambert.”

“You belong where I say you do. Now get out. I’m busy,” he said, turning away.

D
UE TO A CAN
of beef stew decorating my windshield, Mom dropped me off at school, and as I walked across the street, I watched Brooke open her car door. I’d spent the night thinking about what I should do, and she was a part of it. I walked over. “Hi.”

She scowled. “Jerk.”

I smiled. “I’m still a jerk, huh?”

“You’ll always be a jerk.”

“I told you I didn’t have anything to do with it, and besides, I apologized.”

She faced me. “What about that kid? The food drive? I saw the posters. You set it up, and the whole school is laughing at him now. That makes you a jerk.”

I couldn’t win. “I didn’t do it.”

She laughed, her voice full of contempt. “Is there anything you don’t blame on other people? God, you make me sick.”

I winced. “You don’t understand, Brooke. I didn’t do it.”

“Then who did? Somebody set you up? Some sort of conspiracy against the golden child?”

“I’m not a golden child, but yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then why are you standing here?”

“Because I like you. And I’m not bad.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she clenched her teeth. Then she slapped me. Hard. The sound echoed, and other students stopped, staring as my cheek burned.

Her eyes didn’t leave mine as I straightened up. “What was that for?”

“Looking,” she said. “And to make it clear that I’ll never like you.”

I groaned. Talking to this girl was like eating soup with a knife, and simply being around her was painful. But something about her, the way she was, convinced me to stay. “I need your help.”

She frowned. “What?”

I studied her. “Why are you at Lambert, Brooke?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Come on. Tell me. Are you gifted? Brilliant? A genius?”

She paused, then her mouth went tight. “So what if I’m not?”

I shrugged. “So I’m not, either.”

A long moment passed, and she looked away. “So?”

“So you’ll help me if you want to make it so guys like Singletary don’t have to put up with this crap.”

“So you really didn’t do the food drive?”

I nodded. “Meet me after school in the library and I’ll tell you more.”

E
LVIS LAY SPRAWLED
on the gymnasium floor like a dazed pelican, staring at the ceiling. The volleyball-turned-torpedo bounced across the court, and the guy who had spiked it directly into his chest called out, asking if the wounded pelican was okay. Elvis groaned.

I stood over him. “Hey.”

“I think I’ve fractured my sternum,” he panted.

I held out my hand. “Here. Get up.”

He took my hand as warm-up balls sailed around us. “Thanks.”

I looked at him. “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“Meet me in the library after school and I’ll tell you.”

“I can’t.”

“Listen, Elvis. I have to make things better. Please?”

He frowned. “I’m not going to be in the Group.”

“I know. It’s not about that.”

“Then what?”

“Just meet me, okay?” I snagged a ball and hit it over the net. “Okay?”

“Sure.”

“Good.”

After class, I found Mrs. Pembroke sitting behind the office counter, prim and proper, a smile on her face. She reminded me of the ever-happy grandma. World War III could break out and she’d find something to smile about. “Hello again, Mr. Weatherby.”

I smiled, letting that famous Weatherby charm that got my dad elected time after time shine through. “Call me Jason, okay? I’m not my dad yet.”

She chuckled. “Very well. What can I do for you today, Jason?”

“I’m looking for a copy of the student charter for a project.”

She stood, bustling to a file cabinet. “Yes. Of course. Looking up the student policies and rules, I take it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She came back holding a sheaf of papers stapled together and handed them to me. “There you go, and good luck.”

I stuffed them in my bag. “Thanks.” I hesitated. “So how is the fund-raising going for the new wing?”

Her eyes brightened. “Very well. It looks like it will be a success.”

I nodded. “My dad told me he’s working some things up for it. That’s cool, huh?”

“It certainly is.”

“How much has been raised so far?”

She shrugged. “I haven’t looked at the list lately, actually.”

I smiled. “Oh yeah. The list. That reminds me. My dad wanted me to get a copy of that for him. He’s so excited that people are supporting the cause that he wants to send each and every one an official thank-you letter from his office. He was going to send a staffer over to get it, but since I’m already here, he asked me.”

She furrowed her brow. “Hmm. I’m not allowed to hand out financial information like that, Jason. Even if it is for your father.”

I took a breath. “Dang. My mom is going to be upset now.”

“Your mother?”

I nodded. “She was going to host a cocktail party for the donors. She wants to invite Lambert staff, too.” I smiled again. “You know, just to show support for Lambert.” I paused, as if thinking. “What if you sealed it in an envelope? My parents were really looking forward to this.”

She sighed. “I suppose I could do that. And I know all the donors would love to be recognized for what they’ve done. Okay.” She turned to her computer, clicked into a program, and in a moment leaned over and took a freshly printed list from the machine. She pulled an envelope from a drawer, then folded the list, put it inside the envelope, and sealed it. “There you go.”

I slid it next to the charter in my bag. “Thanks, Mrs. Pembroke. I appreciate it.”

* * *

Unlike the study hall, the library was the place to find the dweebs, and it was a discreet location because nobody who was anybody ever went there. Elvis sat at a long table, his book bag open and a quantum physics magazine in his hands. Brooke sat at another table, staring at me as I walked in. I nodded to her, and she stood as I approached. “Thanks for coming.”

She smiled. “How’s your face?”

“Funny.”

“I think so.”

I led her to Elvis. “Hey.”

He looked up, closing his mag and glancing at Brooke. “Hi.”

I sat across the table from him, and Brooke took a seat next to Elvis, introducing herself. A moment passed, and Brooke shrugged. “So why are we here?”

I cleared my throat, looking over my shoulder. “The Chamber needs to be put in its place.”

Brooke looked at me. “Soooo … you want to be put in your place? You’re a member of the Chamber.”

I shrugged. “This school isn’t what it should be.”

“Then why are you in it?” She smirked.

“For the same reason you did what you did. Probably for the same reason half the people in the Youth Leadership Group are in it. Our parents. The pressure. The bullshit.”

She flinched, and her jaw muscles worked as she clenched her teeth. Her eyes flicked to Elvis. “That was not fair, Jason. He made me do it—”