The Chamber of Five

by Michael Harmon

  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.

  CHAPTER NINE

  DUE 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.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  ELVIS 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—”

  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.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “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 happ
en 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?”