The Chamber of Five by Michael Harmon Read Free Book Online

“Thanks. He is smart, and there’s no way he could get in without the Chamber.”
    “That’s what we’re here for. To help each other.”
    Kennedy cut in. “Dude, have you seen the guy walk? I think he’s got some disorder or something.”
    “He skips lines. It’s a thing with him,” I said.
    Kennedy laughed. “Step on a crack, break your mother’s back.”
    Carter laid his hands on the table. “Kennedy, are you finished showing everybody here what happens when the wrong people have children?”
    Just then Elvis knocked on the door. Carter called out, “Enter.”
    The door opened, and Elvis, his hair combed for once, sharply parted, walked in. He’d pressed his slacks and wore his formal blazer, with a kerchief in the breast pocket. He nodded, closing the door behind him, and smiled. “Hi.”
    Carter gestured to him. “Welcome, Mr. Presley. Come in.”
    Elvis walked to the center of the room, looking around. “Should I get a chair?”
    Carter studied the file. “You may stand.”
    “Sure.”
    Carter closed the file, looking up and smiling. He crossed his knee over his leg. “Membership in the Group is important to you, yes?”
    “Yes. I’ve a chance at being accepted to the Pilkney Foundation for math and science. One of the most prestigious in the world.” He smiled, his teeth huge and white. “It’s hard to get in to.”
    Carter went on. “And what do you plan on doing once you’ve attended?”
    He beamed. “Quantum physics, nanotechnology, and—”
    Carter tapped a pen on the file. “Mr. Presley, what does your father think about it?”
    He smiled wide. “He’s happy that I have a chance to—”
    “What does he do?” Carter looked at the file. “Oh, yes. He works for the parks department, right?”
    “Yes, he does. For over twenty-five years.”
    “Wonderful. We need people like that. Gardeners and such. Does he carry around a trash bag and one of those poker things to pick up litter? I’ve seen them do that, you know, and I just hate people who litter. Especially in our nice parks.” He paused. “We pay taxes for those things, and we pay men like your father to serve us. Did he go to trash-picking-up school?”
    Elvis faltered. “Well, he …”
    I clenched my teeth, leaning toward Carter. “That’s enough, Carter.”
    He waved me off. “I’m sure he’s a good little worker, Mr. Presley. Does he wear a uniform? Like a janitor? With the keys jangling on his belt? When I was a child, I was fascinated by those men. I’d drop things just to watch them pick it up.”
    A sheen of sweat glowed on Elvis’s forehead, and his eyes flicked to me. “I … he is very supportive of me. Yes. He is.”
    Carter chuckled. “No worries here, Mr. Presley. I can see you are ashamed of him, and I understand. It’s not your fault, is it? It’s just fascinating to me that here you are, at this school, and your father is picking up other people’s trash for a living. That is America at its best, yes?” He stared at Elvis. “My dad used to give our caretaker a turkey at Christmas for doing such a good job. Does your father get turkeys?” Carter looked around. “Maybe weshould send him a turkey. Yes. Let’s send him a turkey for doing such a good job. My father always taught me that a simple man likes simple things.”
    Elvis sniffed, blinking, his eyes on Carter. “I’m sorry, but what does my father have to do with …” He glanced at me, then back to Carter. “Carter, I thought I was coming here to—”
    Carter snapped, quick and vicious, “Call me sir.”
    Elvis looked down. “Sir.”
    I stood. “Knock it off, Carter.”
    Carter smiled, ignoring me. “Mr. Presley, you are a freak. A bizarre, genetic malfunction, and I can’t understand for the life of me what made you think that you could ever, ever be in the Youth Leadership Group.” He folded his hands on his lap. “Application denied. Get out.”
    Elvis looked up, his face wracked and broken, like he’d been flayed