The Chamber of Five (8 page)

Elvis interrupted. “Whoa. Back up. Made you do what?”

Brooke fidgeted.

“Tell him, Brooke,” I said.

“No.”

“It has everything to do with what is wrong with this place.”

She took a moment. “He made me take my shirt off in the Chamber. To get into the Group.”

Elvis whistled. “Wow. That’s bad.”

“I know. And he’s making me get that kid, Thomas Singletary, kicked out of Lambert.” I looked at Elvis. “That was why Carter brought you in, Elvis. I refused to go after the kid, and he used you to get me to agree.”

Brooke stared at me, then stood. “So you really
did
do the food drive thing? God, you’re an ass.”

“No, no. It’s all a power play. I wouldn’t do it so they did. It’s like a twisted game.”

Elvis listened, his big ears like satellites, and Brooke frowned. “So what do you want to do?”

“Will you sit?” I said, looking around.

She did.

I took out the list of contributors to the school, including the donations to the new wing. “This school is screwed up.” I put the list on the table. “Look, every new member of the Group this year has a parent connected to that contribution list in a big way, including you, Brooke.” I sat back. “Now, look at the general-fund list.”

They did, and saw that there were general-fund donations listed from fifty dollars on up to two hundred thousand dollars. Elvis’s parents had donated fifty-five dollars. Brooke’s mother had donated twenty-five thousand dollars. She saw the comparison and crossed her arms, shifting uncomfortably. Elvis saw his last name and smiled. “My dad worked overtime for that. Pretty cool, huh?”

I nodded, then pulled another list out, one I’d made myself.
“Now, look at this list, and what you’ll see is that every single member of the Leadership Group has a parent who has donated at
least
ten thousand dollars … compared to the average donation to Lambert of one hundred fifty-six dollars.”

Brooke read over the lists, then looked up. “So wealthy people can give more. They should. Your dad gave more than my mom. Way more.”

I shook my head. “No. What we’re seeing is that you have to buy a place into the Leadership Group in a school meant for
gifted
students, and you know it. We all know it, but we just put up with it. Don’t you think that a leadership group at a school for gifted students should be full of … gifted students?”

Elvis scratched his head. “What is there to do about it?”

I plopped the school charter on the table. “It’s all in there.”

Brooke frowned. “Explain.”

Elvis nodded. “Yes, please. I’m afraid I don’t do well with abstract thought. Please keep it linear.”

I looked at him like I knew what that meant, then went on. “When this school began, the regular student council voted who would be a part of the Leadership Group, and it was based on one thing. Academics. But for some reason, they took the academic requirements out when the Chamber of Five was formed. Then it ended up being that the Chamber picked who was in the Leadership Group.”

They stared at me.

“So what I’m saying is that in the charter, the regular student council has the power, with a majority vote, to decide who will be in the Youth Leadership Group.
Their
power is higher than the Chamber of Five’s, because as far as the
charter goes”—I looked at both of them—“the Chamber doesn’t exist.”

Brooke sat back. “Oh God.”

Elvis piped in, “So what? You’ll never get the student council to approve a vote on anything. The Chamber rules them.”

I shrugged. “Only if those on the student council let them.”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “You, Jason, are crazy.”

Elvis frowned. “What? What’s going on?”

I grinned. “I’m running for president of the student council.”

Brooke shook her head. “Besides being insane, you do realize you need a majority approval from the student council? You can’t pass anything without three other members’ approval.” She eyed me. “And if you think even for a split second that I’m going to do anything to jeopardize my position in the Leadership Group, you’re nuts. My mom would kill me.”

A long moment passed. I took a breath. “I’m asking you both to run with me.”

Silence. Dead, black silence. Then Brooke rolled her eyes again. “You must be deaf.”

I pleaded. “Come on, guys. It’s wrong. They’ve ruined the school, and it needs to be changed. Carter and his little Chamber need to be put right. Besides Singletary, just think of how many legitimate students have been ripped off over the years because of this crap.”

“You can’t do it, Jason,” Brooke argued. “And even if the three of us made it, you need one more.”

Elvis cut in. “Statistically speaking, Jason, my existence is only known to three percent of this school. The odds of me being elected are nil.”

Brooke’s face turned hard, and I knew what she was thinking, because I’d spent all night thinking about the same thing. Her parents. I leaned forward, staring at her. “Do you belong here, Brooke?”

“Of course I—”

“No, you don’t. Just like I don’t. Do you know when the last time a
real and qualified-for-this-school
student made it into the Leadership Group?
Decades
. Elvis belongs in it and Thomas Singletary belongs in it, and eighty percent of the students here should be able to strive for it, but they’re not allowed. We bought our way in, and you know it. And if eighty percent of the school
knows
that the Chamber will be killed and this school will be what it’s supposed to be, they’ll vote for us. You know it.”

She studied the surface of the table. “I … I can’t, Jason.”

“Don’t you think your mother would be proud of you for changing something for the good?”

“Sure, but …”

“But what?”

“But if it works, it means …”

I nodded. “I know. It means you’d have to give up your spot in the Leadership Group … to somebody who deserves it.”

Her eyes clouded. “I didn’t make Lambert this way.”

“But you accept it.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then prove it.”

Elvis piped in, “Academic requirements, huh?”

I nodded.

He smiled. “Well, I don’t know about girly-girl here, but I’ll
join you. And logically thinking, I
could
win a student council spot based on agenda, not on personality.”

I stared at Brooke. “You know it’s right, Brooke.”

She studied the lists on the table, then raised her eyes to Elvis. Moments passed. “Okay. I’m in.”

“I
WANT TO KNOW
who was in this Chamber.” Carter looked around the room, then his eyes fell on me. A bottle of vodka sat in the middle of the table. An empty shot glass with
THE BLUE SAPPHIRE
scrawled across it was placed upside down over the top of the bottle. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything, would you, Jason?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Carter studied me intently. “I’m talking about that.” He pointed to the bottle.

“A bottle of vodka?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

Steven shook his head. “Why would somebody put a bottle of vodka in here?”

Kennedy laughed, rubbing his hands together. “Doesn’t matter, Steven. Get the goblets.”

Carter stared rivets into Kennedy. “Shut up.”

Kennedy shut up.

I frowned. “So what’s the big deal? Somebody left a bottle.”

“No, Jason. That’s not the point. The point is that somebody had the audacity to come in here, and the other point is that they think they can play games with me.”

“With a bottle of vodka?”

He stared at me, suspicion in the dark of his eyes. Silence filled the room.

“I didn’t do it. Why would I do it?”

He didn’t answer, but spoke to all of us. “I want whoever did this in front of me by tomorrow. Got it?”

Kennedy sighed. “Dude, aren’t you being a little bit paranoid? It’s a bottle, Carter. And it may just be a gift, even if they did come in here unauthorized. Let’s drink it.”

Carter shook his head, contempt oozing from his mouth. “Kennedy, if I want advice from a pile of shit, I’ll consult a horse’s ass. Be quiet. And if you ever call me
dude
again, I’ll have you neutered.”

Frowning, Kennedy sat back. “I didn’t mean—”

Carter slammed his palm on the table, his eyes blazing, his neck strained. “SHUT THE FUCK UP! I want whoever did this in front of me by tomorrow after school! Got it?”

Kennedy stepped back, putting his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, Carter. Sure. I got it.”

I caught up to Woodsie on the front steps after we’d adjourned, completely confused about what had just happened. “Hey.”

He turned. “Hey.”

“What was that all about?”

Woodsie smiled. “Somebody is having fun. Dangerous fun.”

“With a bottle of vodka? How?”

Woodsie looked back at the school. “Remember I told you Carter’s father was thrown off the bench?”

“Yeah. For drunk driving.”

He nodded. “Yeah. He’d been drinking vodka tonics all night.”

“So what? Is Carter that neurotic to think that’s what the bottle meant?”

Woodsie’s eyes met mine. “He’s not being neurotic.”

“Why?”

Woodsie stared across the grounds. “Because the name of the bar he was drinking at before they nailed him was The Blue Sapphire.”

I whistled, remembering the shot glass. “Whoa.”

“Yeah, whoa. That’s the closest I’ve ever seen him to going ballistic, Jason. He’s on the edge.”

“I didn’t do it.”

“He thinks you did.”

“I didn’t even know.”

He shrugged. “What you know doesn’t really matter, Jason. What I know, on the other hand, is that you and Carter have issues. Big ones.”

I stared off across the street, watching traffic pass. “The only reason I’m in the Chamber is because of my dad getting this school money for the new wing.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday. I know why I’m in the Chamber, too.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

He sighed, facing me. “Jason, what you’re not understanding is that what I’m okay with and what you’re okay with doesn’t matter. We have absolutely no way of controlling what happens here. Our parents do, and they control it through the list.”

“You know about the donation list?”

“Yes. The Chamber president picks new members from it each year. It’s tradition.”

“So that’s why Carter doesn’t like me?”

He nodded. “See, Carter
has
to pick the highest on the list, so he had to pick you. And you represent a threat.” He looked away. “You’re different.”

I thought about it for a minute. “If you could change the Chamber, would you?”

He didn’t answer.

“Would you?”

“I don’t know.”

I almost spilled my guts out to him, but I decided I wasn’t ready. Not yet. I had something to take care of first.

“Why, Jason?”

I blew it off. “No reason. Just sucks what we have to do sometimes, you know?”

“Sure does.”

I
SAT ACROSS THE CAFETERIA
table from Thomas and watched him eat a bologna sandwich. I’d been sitting there for minutes, and we’d not said a word to each other. Bite, chew, swallow. Nothing else. We were playing a game. His eyes never left mine. I cleared my throat, finally tired of the game. “I might have come on a bit strong the other day.”

He set his sandwich down, meticulously dabbing crumbs from the table with his finger and flicking them at me. I ignored it. He burped. “Get a new windshield yet?”

I shrugged. “I know you did it, and I don’t blame you. But I didn’t have anything to do with the food drive.”

He smiled. “If somebody screwed with my car, they’d pay. Big-time pay.”

“You’re not me.”

“Thank God. I’d hate to be a coward,” he said, opening up a baggy of Fritos.

I sighed. “You hate this school, right?”

“No. I love it. And I love you. In fact, I think I’m gay for you. Want to make out?”

“I’m serious, Thomas.”

“Me too. I want your tongue in my mouth.”

I cleared my throat. “I want you to run for student council with me.”

He chuckled. “Why would I do that?”

I looked around, lowering my voice, knowing I was taking a big chance. If word got out too soon, I’d be smoked. “Because I’m running for student council president and I need a majority vote if we win.”

“Majority vote on what?”

“To get rid of the Chamber and make it so that regular students are in control of the Youth Leadership Group.” I paused. “And so crap like the food drive doesn’t happen anymore.”

He hesitated, his hand stopping for just a moment as he grabbed a chip. “You’re part of the Chamber.”

“I know.”

“And you want to get rid of it.”

“Yes.”

He chuckled again. “Didn’t take you for emo. You like hurting yourself?”

“It’s wrong.”

“So you choose a guy who hates you.”

I smiled. “You hate me because of what I am.”

“True.”

“I’m trying to get rid of what I am at this school.”

“You aren’t as stupid as I thought.”

“We don’t have to be friends to achieve a common goal, Thomas.”

“You sound like a politician already.”

“Comes with the territory. Are you in?”

“So you have a master plan, huh?”

“Yes. And it’ll work.”

“Tell me one thing,” he said.

“What?”

“Most people don’t enjoy kicking themselves in the face. You really want to hurt yourself?”

I cocked an eye at him. “You really want my tongue in your mouth?”

“No.”

I nodded. “Then we’re mutually agreed.”

“So you want me to help you kick yourself in the face.”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m in.”

“I
’M DROPPING THE
C
HAMBER.”
I almost barfed when I said it, and two hours of sitting in my room trying to find the guts to do it hadn’t made anything easier. It would start raining bombs now.

He didn’t turn. “No you’re not.”

I took a breath, careful with my words. “I don’t fit in with it, Dad. It’s not me.”