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things easier.”
    “For who?”
    “Kennedy.”
    He looked away.
    I shook my head. “Fine, man. I don’t give a crap, anyway. I was just trying to do you a favor.”
    He laughed. “Want some advice, rich boy?”
    “What?”
    “Fuck off.”
    “So you’re the poor kid in a school full of rich pricks. Too bad for you.”
    He shrugged. “Go make yourself feel good on somebody else.”
    “You’re an ass, you know that? I didn’t do anything to you.”
    He met my eyes, and there was no backing down in them. “Fine. Now that we’re in agreement, maybe you should just go back to your little club, huh?”
    “What club? The Chamber?”
    He smiled again. “You enjoyed the show?”
    I furrowed my brow, not understanding, but Brooke instantly came to mind. He couldn’t know about that. Nobody could, unless one of us had talked. Carter came to mind, and I wondered what kind of game he was playing. “What show?”
    “The tennis show.”
    I studied his face. He was like a book with no words in it. “Whatever. Eat shit, Singletary. You deserve what you get.”
    Lunch rolled around, and Elvis rolled around with it, bobbing his head and smiling like a big goof. He had a habit of avoiding the tile lines on the floor, which made walking with him feel like I was watching a guy play hopscotch. “Hey, Jason. Guess what?”
    “What?”
    He grinned, showing big teeth as he shortened a step to miss a line. “I got a meeting today.”
    “With who?”
    He slapped me on the back. “You. The Chamber. Carter sent me a note. Today at four. And you know what? I think I’m being accepted.”
    “How’s that?”
    “Because the logical conclusion would be that, Jason. Why would they call me in, otherwise? Besides, the note congratulatedme on being selected to appear before them. It said that I should thank you, too, so thank you.”
    My mind was on Thomas. “Cool.”
    “You’ll be there?”
    “I suppose so.”
    He smiled, clapping me on the shoulder. “To success, my friend. To success.” Then he was gone, whistling down the hall, happy as a side-stepping, hopscotching clam.
    I walked into the Chamber, and the five high-backed chairs were set up in a row, the table gone and an empty space in front. Kennedy, Woodsie, and Steven sat, and Carter was nowhere to be found. Woodsie nodded. “Weatherby.”
    “Hey, Woodsie.” I nodded to Steven, who nodded back.
    Kennedy smiled. “No greeting for me, brother?”
    I smiled back, sitting. “Hello, asswipe.”
    Kennedy laughed. “I like you, Weatherby, but I like your mother better. Total MILF.” He smiled again. “Are they natural?”
    I ignored him. “Why are the chairs like this?”
    Woodsie took a piece of gum from his pocket. “Interview today. Your buddy, I think.”
    Kennedy smirked. “That Presley guy? What is the world coming to? The guy is like the son of his brother’s mother’s sister or some freaky shit like that. You can tell a guy is inbred by the eyes. Close together and screwy.”
    I turned to Kennedy, squinting at him. “I know your family has money, but come on. It’s like buying your dog into Lambert and expecting him to learn anything other than to lick his balls and shit in the backyard.”
    Kennedy guffawed. “That’s why I like you, man. Sincerely. I do. But I’m a rich dog.”
    Woodsie laughed. “Goes to show you, Weatherby. You can beat the shit out of a dog, but you can’t make the dog stop eating shit.”
    Kennedy rolled his eyes. “You think he won that verbal sparring match, Woods? I killed him. The inbred joke was way better than the lame dog thing.”
    Woodsie laughed again.
    Kennedy shrugged. “Fine, then. We’ll leave it to Steven.” He looked to Steven. “All right, Lotus, who won? Me or pukehead?”
    He took a breath. “I don’t know.”
    Kennedy furrowed his brow. “Are you still all sensitive about the whore thing, Steve-o? Come on, we’re all whores, just like Carter said. You’re just better at it than most.”
    Steven