The Chamber of Five (11 page)

“You’re crazy.”

I smiled. “The school charter doesn’t even recognize the Chamber.” I looked at him. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it to yourself for now.”

“Sure. But you know I can’t help you. I can’t risk my dad cutting me off.”

I smiled again. “Wimp.”

He smirked. “That sounds weak, huh?”

“It sounds like life,” I said, then chuckled. “But it is weak.”

“I’ll give you a heads-up on anything I hear, huh?”

“Sure.”

I
TACKED UP
the last of my posters, this one in the cafeteria, and the buzz was already beginning. Between the three of us, we’d plastered the school. All the posters read the same. One thing. A promise to change the school charter to base admittance to the Youth Leadership Group and the Chamber of Five on academics and school involvement. Open voting by the Youth Leadership Group to choose the members of the Chamber of Five. Lambert was a school for the brilliant, and the leadership of the school should be representative of that. Our slogan was
PUT THE POWER IN
YOUR
HANDS!

I should have been happy, but I was just plain miserable. I’d committed myself to something huge, and honestly, I was scared. This wasn’t the way I did things. Jason Weatherby stood in the background, unconcerned and to himself. Now I was front and center, and my stomach complained about it. That, and Thomas Singletary was nowhere to be found.

As I turned to leave the cafeteria, Carter faced me. I don’t know how long he’d been standing there. His right arm was casted and in a sling, and his face was as hard as the lead pipe that had busted the bone. “So this is it, huh?” he said, motioning to the poster.

I nodded.

“You’re going to pay, Jason.”

“I’m changing this school. You can’t touch me.”

He smiled a wicked smile. “I’m not going to touch you, Jason”—he raised his cast—“just like you didn’t touch me.”

I frowned. “I don’t care if you think I did it or put somebody up to it or whatever. I didn’t. You’re a psycho.”

“And I don’t care if you didn’t do it, Jason. As I said before, we’re beyond that. You’ve started something you can’t stop.”

“Go to hell.”

He smiled again. “You have no idea where I am, Jason. None.” Then he turned, walking away.

B
ROOKE AND
I sat under an elm tree in the courtyard during lunch. She brought out a croissant stuffed with cream cheese, ham, and sprouts. “Who broke his arm, Jason?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, it’s got to be somebody.”

I took a swig of Gatorade. “You don’t trust me, do you?” She ate.

“Tell me.”

She swallowed, taking a moment. “The truth?”

“Yes.”

“You and Carter hate each other, for one. For two, I could see anybody breaking his arm as some sort of justice for ordering Singletary’s arm broken, and for three, you come from a home with violence in it.” She glanced away. “I also heard about the fight you and Kennedy got into.”

I screwed the cap on my Gatorade and stood. “For one, Brooke, I don’t need your analysis of my life. For two, unlike you, my family isn’t all daisies and tulips, and for three, you don’t know shit about anything in my house.”

She blinked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …”

“To what? Judge me? Sort of like I
didn’t
judge you in the Chamber? Or
are
you a slut?”

Her chin quivered. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Well, it came out that way, and I don’t need it. I don’t lie, Brooke. I might be a coward and a slacker and everything else my dad says, but I’m not a liar.”

She took a deep breath, picking a sliver of grass and rolling it between her fingers. “You’re right. I trust you. I just don’t know what’s going to happen.”

I sat. “Me neither.”

“What if he goes after me? Or Elvis?”

“Then I’ll kill him,” I said, instantly regretting it. “Figuratively, I mean.”

“My mom is going to kill me when she finds out what we’re doing.”

“Figuratively?”

She laughed. “Yes.”

“Are you still on board?”

She nodded. “Elvis is uncontrollably nervous, Jason. When we were putting up our posters this morning, he excused himself to the bathroom to be sick.”

I chuckled. “He’ll do fine.”

“We still need a majority to do this, you know. If we only carry three seats, it’s not enough to bring a vote.”

I looked across the courtyard, where students gathered and wandered and hustled here and there. “Thomas Singletary.”

“What?”

“He’s running for a council position.”

Her eyes widened. “Joke of the year, right? He hates you.”

I nodded. “He might hate me, but he hates this school more.”

“Nobody knows him. He’s a mystery around here.” She paused. “A freaky one.”

“People aren’t going to vote for
somebody
, Brooke, they’re going to vote for a cause. Just like with Elvis.”

“What about the Chamber? They must know by now.”

“The Chamber can screw off.”

A moment passed before she spoke. “Does Carter still think it’s you?”

“I don’t think it matters to him now. He’s off his rocker, and I think even if he knew it wasn’t me, he’d still be gunning for me.”

She grunted. “You said the only people who knew about the pipe were in the Chamber.”

“Yep.”

She glanced at me. “Woodsie?”

“I don’t know, Brooke. He said no, but it’s not like anybody is going to admit it. For all I know, Kennedy and Steven hate his guts, too.”

Just then, Chancellor Patterson floated across the courtyard, saw us, and came over. He smiled. “Jason, Brooke, wonderful to see both of you.”

We stood, shaking his hand. “Sure.”

“Your father called me this morning about the new wing,
Jason, and I congratulated him on your running for president of the student council.” He paused, then went on. “He seemed … unaware of it. And of the innovative platform you, and your friends, of course, are running on.”

I groaned. Dead. My dad was going to kill me. Taking a breath, I erased the images flashing in my head of all the different and creative ways he could make me not living. Then it occurred to me what it felt like to know you’ve got nothing to lose. I met his eyes. “It is innovative, huh? We were just talking about how much the school would change if it happens.” I looked at him. “Lots would change, yes?”

“Well, Mr. Weatherby, that’s not for me to decide, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” I said.

He paused. “You know, Jason, I’ve been a teacher here for over thirty years. Chancellor for six.”

“Sucks for you, huh? Dealing with a bunch of rich pricks like me.”

“What I was alluding to is that politics play a tremendous part in Lambert’s history, and in my years here, I’ve never quite seen an attempt such as this.” He paused again, then went on. “To change the very foundation of what Lambert has become is … noble.”

I gawked. “You’re joking, right? You’ll have a quarter of this school’s parents knocking on your door if I win, and they’ll have your head on a platter.”

He smiled politely. “Need I remind you that I am merely the steward of policy at Lambert? The charter dictates, not I.”

I looked at him. “Why do you talk that way?”

He furrowed his brow.

“Never mind. My bad. What are you saying?”

His eyes met mine. “I’m saying, Mr. Weatherby, that I truly wish you the best of luck. And also that when I spoke to your father this morning, I was under the assumption that he knew of your undertakings here.”

I stared at him. “Really?”

He turned away, and as he did, that soft chuckle came again. “Things sometimes evolve in a way they shouldn’t, and oftentimes a person may find friends when there seem to be few around. My apologies for letting your cat out of the bag.”

That caught my attention. “You
want
us to win?”

He turned back, grinning. “Sometimes, Mr. Weatherby, rich pricks get tiresome.”

Then he was gone, and I felt like a total ass for assuming he was against us. “Huh.”

“What?” Brooke said.

“He’s stuck in the middle,” I laughed. “Just like me.”

She grinned. “Did you know he volunteers at a soup kitchen every weekend? My mom told me.”

“No, I didn’t.”

She nodded. “Not everybody is bad, Jason, and nobody is all bad.”

“G
OT NEWS
, J
ASON.”

I looked at Woodsie. Class was out, and he’d caught up to me in the hall. “What?”

He looked away. “Carter called a Chamber meeting today at lunch. You weren’t invited.”

That didn’t surprise me a bit. “What happened?”

“He said you weren’t to be trusted, and that you needed to be stopped. I agreed.”

“You what?”

He nodded. “Yeah. That’s when I told him I was running for secretary of the student council. The same position as Singletary. He’ll be my competition.”

“Whoa, back up here. You agreed?”

“Yes. I’m running on a different platform than you. A neutral one. I told Carter it was to hedge the Chamber’s bet in controlling
things if you and Brooke and Elvis make it. I would be the swing vote, because Carter has no intention of Thomas’s still being at this school for the election.”

“Get to the point, Woods. I’m confused.”

“I’m saying we need ears in the Chamber until the election. I’m your ears. And I’m also saying that if Singletary does get the hook, I’ll flip.”

“You said you couldn’t …”

“I changed my mind.”

“What if you beat Thomas, though?”

“I’ll back out due to personal reasons and the next highest vote getter will win the seat, which will be Thomas.” He smiled, but it wasn’t cheery. More anxious than anything. “It’s in the charter.”

“This is conspiracy, you know. Not exactly ethical.”

He laughed. “I never said I was good, Jason. You’ve got no say in what I do or don’t do, so don’t heap guilt on yourself. My decision, my consequences.” He eyed me. “Needless to say, it’s in my best interests if Singletary wins. I’m counting on you.”

I thought about what Brooke had said about bad and good. “You’re not bad, Woods.”

He smiled. “Life is a fucked-up game. But sometimes you’ve got to play the game to end the game.”

“Yeah, but it’s …”

“You know fairness doesn’t come into play with politics, and you know what will happen if you lose.”

I nodded. “Tell me one thing.”

He smiled, this time genuine. “Yes, the rumors are true. I’m hung like a horse.”

I grunted. “Sicko.”

“What one thing, then?”

“Why? Why change your mind?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because I can’t stand people like Carter.”

“Bull.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I told you. I don’t know.”

I realized that Woodsie was savvy. Incredibly savvy. And that made him dangerous. The most dangerous people in the world were the ones you trusted. “You sure you’re on our side?”

“My word.”

“I can only believe you, man.”

He smiled. “I know. And I can only believe you.”

“W
ELL, LOOK WHO’S HERE.”

I set my keys on the kitchen counter, and my dad stood at the island, his hands splayed on the granite surface. “Hi.”

He pointed to my keys, then motioned for me to throw them to him. I did. He put them in his pocket. “You can take a bus from now on.”

I stared at him. “Fine with me.”

He glowered, his face dropping to a menacing and pissed-off scowl. “Don’t test me, son.”

“Or what? You’ll hit me?”

Silence. He breathed. Then he paced. I’d seen him on TV on the floor of Congress in front of the podium acting the same game. “Let’s see. Your wish is to dismantle the only thing that can help you attain success in college. Your wish is to spite me at every turn. Your wish is to throw away everything you’ve been
given.” He stopped pacing, staring icicles into me. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

“This has nothing to do with you, Dad. This is about—”

“THIS HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH ME!” he bellowed, slamming his fist on the granite. “I have spent over
a hundred thousand dollars
on your schooling, and
you
have the nerve to tell
me
that I’m not involved?” He came around the counter then, and I stood there, just like I always had. Just like I knew I always would. The jolt of his hands slamming into my chest and grabbing handfuls of my shirt knocked me back against the door. He kept me on my feet, his eyes blazing inches from mine as he shook me. “I am done! Do you hear me? DONE! I won’t take your insolence and I will not stand for you making a mockery of this family any longer.” He growled, “I will not wake up in the morning regretting you are my son, and you will no longer be the embarrassment of my life. At the end of this semester, you will be attending Rolling Hill Military Academy in Vermont.” He stared at me. “Do you understand me, Jason?”

I took a breath, sucking in the heat of his. “No.”

His fists tightened on my shirt, his eyes burning into me.

“I’m not going, Dad.”

A volcano, he exploded, yanking me forward and slamming me against the back door again. My head snapped back, breaking a pane of glass. As it shattered, he reared a fist back, and I closed my eyes.

“Take your hands from my son.”

We both turned our heads, and Mom stood there. No tears, no quivering lip, no hesitation. Just a low and calm voice. Dad’s hoarse voice sounded low and dangerous. “Get out of here, Tiffany. Now.”

She stood motionless. “You will leave this house right now, Daniel. Go.”

“Goddamnit, Tiffany, I don’t have to put up …”

She opened her phone and punched three numbers. “Yes. My husband is assaulting my son. Yes. That is the correct address. Yes. As quickly as possible.” Then she hung up.

Dad let go of me, awestruck. Silence followed as they stared at each other. Then Mom spoke. “I’ve had enough, Dan.”

He stood, staring at the phone, dumbfounded. “Do you know what you’ve just done to me, Tiffany? I’m a congressman, for God’s sake.”