The Chamber of Five

by Michael Harmon

  “Quite a little display with the video today.”

  I spun, and Kennedy stood in the shadows of the hall, his bulk dark and menacing. I stepped back. “Yeah, it was.”

  He grinned. “I thought I looked pretty damn good on camera.”

  I ignored him. “I take it Carter is here.”

  He nodded.

  “With Thomas?”

  “You got it.”

  “And you?” I said.

  He smiled again, menace in his eyes. “I’m here for you.”

  I squinted. “Did Carter set this meeting up, or Thomas?”

  “Does it matter? Carter has a beef with the kid, and he’s taking care of it. I, on the other hand, have a beef with you.”

  “Kennedy, this is serious. It’s not a game anymore.”

  He grunted. “I don’t really care, man. I’m just here to kick your ass.”

  “Why? Because Carter said so?” I smirked. “You know what he thinks of you, man. You’re a tool. The guy laughs at you every time you turn your back.”

  He set his jaw. “Fuck off, Jason.”

  I shook my head. “Singletary isn’t playing the game, Kennedy. He’s over the edge, and you know Carter is, too.” I pointed to the stairs. “One of them is going to end up dead.”

  Kennedy paused, and I could almost hear the wheels grinding in his thick skull.

  I went on. “Judge Logan killed Singletary’s father in a drunk-driving accident. He killed him and nothing happened. No jail, no nothing.” I stared at him. “Singletary wants payback.” I sighed. “He broke Carter’s arm, left the bottle, did the poster, made the video, did it all. And now he wants to kill him.”

  Kennedy’s brutish face looked confused.

  I stepped forward. “Think about it! It’s like a fucked-up thing in his head. He wants Judge Logan to be hurt as much as he was hurt. Don’t you get it?”

  “That’s twisted.”

  I shook my head. “Listen, I know you like doing shit like this, but do you really want to be a part of what’s going to happen up there? Is it worth it?”

  He stared.

  “The guy even hacked his test scores to get into Lambert. He’s off the charts.”

  “You’re full of it.”

  “Dude, I know he hacked your psych records. That’s why you stay away from him. You’re even scared of the guy, so don’t pretend anymore.”

  Silence.

  “I haven’t told anybody and don’t plan on it, but I’m not lying here. His dad was a great guy, man, and Thomas is totally bent about it. He wants revenge. That’s why he’s done all of this.”

  He hesitated. “I don’t have anything to do with who wants to kill who.”

  “You will if you don’t get out of my way.” I looked at him. “You going to let me pass?”

  He stood his ground.

  “You’re not his slave, Kennedy. Jesus, use your head.”

  Silence.

  Every nerve ending in my body was itching. Time was running out. “I’m walking past you, Kennedy. Don’t stop me.”

  He stepped aside. “I wasn’t here, Weatherby. You hear me? I let you pass, I was never here. In fact, I don’t know a thing about what’s going on. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I said as I rushed up the steps.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  I CREPT UP THE STAIRS, walked down the hall, and entered the main building. The doors to the Chamber were closed, and as I neared them, I stopped, taking my phone out. I texted Brooke and my dad: Call the police. They’re in the Chamber.

  I put my phone on vibrate and slipped it into my pocket. The carpeted hall was dark, the only light coming from a sconce next to the Chamber doors as I reached them. I swallowed, putting my ear to the wood and listening for a moment. Nothing. Then I pushed one door.

  As the heavy oak swung open silently, I stepped back.

  The first thing I saw was blood on the floor. Then I saw Singletary. He held the lead pipe. At his feet lay Carter Logan. Eyes closed, sprawled on his side. I could have thought he was sleeping but for the blood leaking from his ear.

  Thomas raised his head, looking at me. His eyes were vacant. As dead as his father. He furrowed his brow, then faced me. “You really shouldn’t have come here, Jason.”

  I held up my hand. “Whoa. Slow down, Thomas. This can work out. It can.”

  “It is working out.”

  My mind raced. I glanced at Carter. His chest moved. “That’s enough, Thomas. You proved your point. You got payback. It’s done. And we won the election. We can change things.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not done.”

  “I know about your father. I know why you’re doing this.”

  He stared.

  I nodded. “I know, and I understand. I do. And I know you want to kill him, but you can’t.”

  “You don’t understand anything.” He shifted, standing over Carter again.

  “I called the police. They’re on the way. Don’t do it.”

  He laughed, his words just above a whisper. “I’m not fucking stupid, Jason. I know where I’m going.”

  “Put the pipe down. Please,” I said. He raised the pipe, leaning over Carter and getting ready to swing. My heart leaped, and the words came out in a gush. “What if your dad was here? Would he do it, Thomas? Would he? Would he wreck his own life because of scum like that?” I jabbed a finger at Thomas. “You were right. Sometimes there is no justice, but why ruin yourself because of it? Why let them ruin you? Why prove them right?”

  He stopped moving, the pipe still raised as he stared at Carter. I almost dove for him, but I knew that if he nailed me, Carter would be done. We’d both be done. And in a strange way, it pissed me off. Really pissed me off. My dad made people like Thomas, but Thomas made people like my dad. It was like a snake eating its own tail, and it made me sick with rage. “You know what, Thomas? You are fucking stupid. A stupid scumbag with nothing better to do than be pissed off at the world. You sit there and tell me that I can’t change anything, and you walk around with all this shit in you, but you just make it worse! You kill him and everybody will think the same thing. Just another unhinged kid. Some loser with loser parents. Probably addicts. Well, screw you. You don’t give a shit about your father or your mother or your sister or how they’ll be seen if you do this. You only care about you, and you’re too chicken to do anything else but keep on hurting the people you should be taking care of.”

  He clenched his teeth. “Shut your mouth.”

  “OR WHAT?” The words echoed I yelled them so loudly. I went on. “Or what, Thomas? You’ll kill me, too? You think I’m here because I give a crap what happens to Carter? For some stupid reason, I like you.” I paused, then went on. “I talked to your mom. Your dad was a good man. He loved his family. He loved you. He was killed by a drunk judge and it was wrong and everything else was wrong, and you’re right. The world sucks. But that’s what happens sometimes, and that’s why you need to put that pipe down, because you’re not changing anything. You’re making yourself the same as them, and if your dad was alive …” I trailed off, the words disappearing. “You’re hurting him as much as you’re hurting yourself, Thomas, and you know it.”

  His face broke, just for a moment. “They don’t care, man. None of them.”

  “I know. But I do. And your mom and sister do.”

  He set his chin, gripping the pipe harder. “He was a nothing to them.”

  “Put the pipe down.”

  He stared at me. “Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll put the pipe down. Tell me I haven’t been right all along.”

  I swallowed. I knew he was right, but there had to be a way. “I don’t know, but …”

  His faced twisted, and he brought the pipe down, smashing Carter on the shoulder. I sprang forward as he swung again, grabbing his arm, but he slithered away, jumping back and threatening me with the pipe. His face was a knot of pent-up rage and pain and horror, and tears streamed down his face. “WHY, JASON?” he screamed. “WHY? Why is
it this way? Why did he die? How can there be people like this?”

  I swallowed. “I don’t know. But you’re not this way. You’re not like them. And I’m here as your friend. Nothing else.”

  He shook his head. “It’s too late. Too late.”

  “No it’s not.”

  He grunted, staring at Carter. “I’m done, man. Look at him.”

  “No you’re not. Just pay the consequences and move on, Thomas. That’s all. Please, I’m begging you. Stop.”

  He kept his eyes on Carter, who moaned.

  I pointed. “He’s the nothing, Thomas. And they’ll all win if you do this. All of them.”

  His face was pained and tense, full of anger and indecision. For a moment, I could almost see the boy that lost his father, but then he blinked, his eyes turning cold.

  “I won’t let you, Thomas. You can kill me, but I won’t let you.”

  He looked up at me. “Why?”

  “Because you’re a good person. Messed up, but good. Your mom showed me that, and now you need to show your dad you are.”

  Moments passed, and Thomas wiped his face with his sleeve. His eyes met mine. “I hate this world.” Then he dropped the pipe.

  EPILOGUE

  CARTER LOGAN SUFFERED a cracked skull, two broken ribs, and multiple bruises. He spent a week in the hospital, then a month at home recuperating. No charges were filed concerning what had been shown on the video. He was expelled from Lambert, though.

  Thomas was charged with aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, and was sentenced to seven months in juvenile detention, then probation until he turned eighteen.

  I visit him every week. He’s in counseling and angermanagement classes, but he’s still pissed. I think he’ll always be.

  My father is living with us again. My mom demanded counseling for all of us, as a family. He agreed, but he didn’t like it. You should see him sitting in the shrink’s office. He looks like a toy poodle shivering and shaking he’s so uncomfortable, but it proved one thing to me. He loves my mom. Maybe even me. And he’s getting better. He took me aside the other day and told me he was proud. I believed it. He also told me that the speech I gave in the auditorium that day reminded him of why he’d gotten into politics. Wow. I never thought I’d hear anything like that from him.

  Oh yeah, the election. We kept our promises. Lambert is the way it should be, or most of the way, anyhow, and Chancellor Patterson actually shook my hand three days ago in the hall. We’re in the process of reorganizing the Youth Leadership Group, and we’ll hold votes in the next week. Parents are screaming about it, but there’s nothing they can do about this little thing we call democracy. The only one I feel sorry for is the chancellor, because he’s the one taking the heat.

  I’ll be leaving Lambert at the end of the year. I don’t belong there, and my mom agreed to let me transfer to another school. A public school. I plan on studying construction management in college. My dad disagrees, but he’s learning that I’m not him.

  Thomas Singletary taught me a big lesson in life, and I’m grateful for it. But he still scares the hell out of me. His father’s death damaged him, but I’m hoping the counseling will help. His justice isn’t the kind I believe in, but it’s hard to dispute his rage, because the system I want so much to believe in is messed up. Those lines of power need to be there, but he helped me see that sometimes they get directed in a way that does more damage than good. My dad is a perfect example of that.

  More than anything, I wish life could be simple. I wish Thomas and I could be closer friends. I wish Carter wasn’t insane. I wish guys like Michael Woodside who know what’s right and want to do right didn’t have to play the game to survive. I wish Kennedy would voluntarily staple his mouth shut.

  I guess I wish the world could be the way it is when I’m with Brooke. Sweet. I’m taking her out for burgers later, and the most popular kid at Lambert is joining us. Yeah. Elvis. You rock.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’d like to thank Kimberly Harmon. The strongest woman I know. George Nicholson, my agent. No words from a high school dropout can describe my respect for you. Thanks, George. Joan Slattery, senior executive editor, Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers, my fantastic and so cool editor, thank you. My thanks also go to Erin Clarke, executive editor, Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers. I’d also like to thank every person out there who has done what they know is right. Even if it hurts to do it.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Michael Harmon was born in Los Angeles and now lives in the Pacific Northwest. He dropped out of high school as a senior and draws on many of his experiences in his award-winning fiction for young adults.

  To learn more about Michael Harmon and his books, please visit booksbyharmon.com.