Elliot Allagash (12 page)

“He laughed incredulously.

“‘Don’t you get it?’ he said. ‘He’s the best there is. It doesn’t matter who you hire. You’re definitely going to lose.’

“I met with the communist the following morning in his decrepit off-campus apartment. He was hosting some kind of meeting, and when I opened the door, he was in the middle of a high-pitched rant.

“‘I’ll let you continue your rant in a moment,’ I said. ‘But first I’d like to discuss your terms.’

“The communist rolled his eyes and muttered something to his comrades, who were among the dirtiest men I’d ever seen.

“‘They’re good terms,’ I said, taking care not to touch anything in the room. ‘And I’ll agree to all of them—on
two
conditions. First, I would like to postpone the match for one week.’

“‘What for?’ he scoffed.

“‘To study,’ I said. ‘I only started playing this game about a month ago. It’s all still pretty new to me.’

“He swallowed bitterly.

“‘What is your other term?’ he grumbled.

“‘You must agree to the same conditions as I have,’ I said. ‘If I am searched,
you
must be searched. If I cannot leave the tent,
you
cannot leave the tent.’

“The communist threw back his head and laughed.

“‘You honestly believe that I would cheat against someone like you?’

“I smiled at the communists and shrugged.

“‘What can I say? I’ve always been a believer in fairness.’

“I shook hands with my opponent, rinsed off my hands in a nearby fountain, and headed back to my club. The elderly steward handed me my usual afternoon drink, but I declined. He examined the glass to make sure he had mixed it correctly, and when he saw that he had, he immediately asked me if I was ill.

“‘I’m fine, Claverly,’ I said. ‘I’m just preparing for an important chess match.’

“‘Is there anything I can bring you?’ he asked.

“‘Yes, actually,’ I said. ‘Some books.’

“‘On chess?’

“‘No,’ I said. ‘On nutrition.’

“A small crowd assembled at Harvard Yard on the morning of the match. They were mostly chess club members, but there were a few regular humans as well, including a reporter and photographer from the student newspaper. The communist and I posed for a picture in front of the tent and then followed the chess club president into a nearby bathroom, so he could search us for contrivances.

“‘Have you lost weight?’ he asked me when I removed my shirt.

“I shrugged.

“‘Studying too hard, perhaps,’ I said.

“After peering into our ears and searching our bodies for wires, he led us back out into the sun, to Harvard Yard, where the tent had been erected. It was empty, as promised, except for a table and a board.

“‘Can we request some coffee?’ I asked the communist. ‘Or does that go against your terms?’

“The communist hesitated.

“‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Coffee.’

“The club president brought us two thermoses of coffee and placed them on the table, next to the championship figurine. Then he closed the flaps of the tent.

“The communist made the first move—something with the knight, I think. I leaned back, folded my arms and smiled at him.

“Ten minutes passed.

“‘Quit stalling,’ he said.

“‘This isn’t speed chess,’ I told him. ‘I’ll take as long as I want.’

“Another ten minutes passed.

“‘You’re only delaying the inevitable,’ he said. ‘Make your move.’

“I smiled at the communist and leaned in close.

“‘Oh, I
am
making my move,’ I whispered. ‘I’m making it as we speak.’

“His beady eyes darted around the tent.”

“‘What are you talking about?’

“I raised my coffee thermos and poured it out, slowly, onto the grass.

“‘Whoever leaves the tent, for any reason, forfeits the match.’

“‘So?’

“‘
So
, I’ve subsisted on a protein diet for the past four days. I haven’t consumed a diuretic in a week and I’ve avoided liquids and solids of all kinds for thirty-six hours.
You
just polished off an entire thermos of coffee.’

“His bushy brown eyebrows crinkled with anger and shock.

“‘You’re crazy,’ he said. ‘You’re a crazy person.’

“I leaned back in my chair.

“‘We’ll see about that,’ I said.

“Twelve hours later, I moved a random pawn and he took it with his knight. Then four more hours passed.

“The communist tried his best to remain composed, but he was obviously experiencing serious physical difficulties. Every few minutes, he clenched his fist and grimaced for a few seconds. These grimaces, I noticed, were coming at shorter and shorter intervals.

“‘You’re a bastard,’ he said. ‘A bastard from hell.’

“‘I thought communists didn’t believe in hell,’ I said.

“‘Okay,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll offer you a technical draw.’

“His legs, I noticed, were firmly crossed.

“‘Why would I accept?’ I said. ‘I’m winning.’

“A few beads of sweat slid slowly down his forehead. I could tell that he was weighing his options. Theoretically, he could relieve himself inside the tent. But what about his dignity? He was still a human being, after all, communist or not.

“At the twenty-two-hour mark, after flashing me one final look of disgust, he dashed out of the tent, his hands already fumbling with his cheap brown belt. I strolled out seconds later, trophy in hand. It was the proudest moment of my college career. Somehow, I had used my reputation as a cheater to help me commit the dirtiest cheat in the history of chess!

“All the spectators had left the yard except for the chess club president, whose face was flushed with anger.

“‘We’re going to put an asterisk next to your name,’ he informed me.

“‘You better,’ I said.

“He snorted with contempt.

“‘So you won the trophy,’ he said.
‘So what?
What good is a trophy if it stands for nothing?’

“I laughed.

“‘For nothing? Good God, man, have some perspective! There are more important games in this world than
chess.’
”

• • •

“Yes, I know, I’ve heard it a million times. Protein diet. Very clever.”

“You don’t like that story?”

“What’s impressive about it?” Elliot said. “It’s vulgar on almost every possible level.”

It was the day of the election. James had picked me up on the way to school so we could discuss my speech—which Elliot still hadn’t told me anything about.

“There’s a rumor that Ashley has some kind of surprise for the end of her speech,” I said. “What do you think it is?”

“Don’t worry about her speech,” Elliot said. “Just focus on memorizing your own.”

He handed me a small slip of paper. There couldn’t have been more than fifty words typed on it.

“What’s this? At the end?”

“It’s a chant,” Elliot said. “Just repeat it over and over again, and everyone will join in.”

“Are you sure that’ll work?”

Elliot nodded.

“Chanting is the most effective tool for controlling the masses. Along with propaganda.”

“Where’d you learn that?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

He handed me a Glendale hat, emblazoned with a lion, the school’s official mascot.

“When you’re called up to the podium, put this on,” he said. “But
don’t
put it on until you’re about to start chanting.”

The limo pulled up to the school.

“That’s it?” I asked.

Elliot nodded.

“That’s it.”

• • •

Elliot had vowed to “eliminate Ashley,” but on the morning of the election, she was still very much in the race. The hallways were lined with her tidy yellow flyers, touting her “Effort, Energy, and Efficiency.” She had handed out buttons a few days before the election, and when I shuffled into the auditorium I noticed that a few kids were wearing them.

“I could easily get her disqualified before the race,” Elliot had explained. “But winning by forfeit is exactly the same as losing. A victory has no meaning unless you’ve defeated someone, and defeated them harshly.”

I understood his logic. But I still didn’t see how I could defeat Ashley, no matter how well written Elliot’s speech was.

My confidence waned even more when her name was called and she marched to the podium looking cautiously confident in a grown-up pantsuit. Her speech was loaded with facts and statistics and all sorts of big words. She was trying to make eye contact with as many people as possible and it made her French braid swing behind her, like a pendulum.

“If we increase the number of bake sales by twenty percent,” she said, “and reallocate our funds, we could vastly increase the number of recreational events.”

Most of her speech was hard for me to follow, since I knew nothing about student government. But my ears perked up when she got to the end.

“There’s a rumor going around that I’ve planned a surprise for you all today. That rumor is true! In past years, lots of candidates
have promised you a scoreboard. I always thought this was a really fun idea, and I’m super excited to announce that with the help of Mr. Hendricks and the generosity of Shamba Electronics, I was able to get us one!”

A bald electrician in a green jumpsuit walked through the side door.

“Sorry I’m late,” he whispered from the edge of the stage.

“It’s okay,” Ashley said. “You made it just in time.”

Ashley had been checking her watch repeatedly throughout the speech. I had assumed it was to make sure she didn’t exceed the five-minute time limit. Really, though, she had been waiting for her scoreboard to arrive. I couldn’t help but feel betrayed. I didn’t care if Mr. Hendricks was rooting for Ashley, but he didn’t have to help her find a
scoreboard
.

The electrician wheeled a large black slab draped with a white sheet on stage and everyone burst into applause. The teachers tried to conceal their excitement, out of fairness, but within seconds they were clapping too, and I even think I heard one of them whistle. I scanned the audience for Elliot; he was sitting in the back, a stony expression on his face.

I looked down at my speech. Thankfully, it was short. All I had to do was run up there, recite it, and leave. It would be embarrassing to lose, but there was no shame, I told myself, in getting crushed by someone like Ashley. She had worked so hard for so many months and she clearly wanted this more than I did. And she had probably put in a ton of hours to get that scoreboard, even though Mr. Hendricks had probably done most of the paperwork.

I was already rehearsing how I would break the news to my parents
when the electrician faced me—and nodded. He walked out the door before I could get a better look at his face. But even with the bald cap and mustache, I could tell: It was James.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ashley announced. “Without further ado, I present the new scoreboard for your
Glendale Lions!”

She yanked off the sheet and the applause gradually died down. I couldn’t see the scoreboard from where I was sitting, but I could see Ashley’s face: Her skin had turned pale and her eyes were round with horror. One or two boys began chuckling and the laughter spread like dominoes across the rows of the auditorium. Ashley looked around frantically for the electrician, but of course he had already left.

I craned my neck and took a peek at the scoreboard. It was completely blank, except for a gigantic tiger and the words
GO WEST SIDE PREP
.

Ashley mumbled something about it being a mix-up and slinked back to her seat. Then the principal banged his gavel, to stop the uproar, and announced my name. I read through the speech one more time, put it in my pocket and walked up to the podium.

“I haven’t done as much research as my opponent,” I recited, “and I don’t have as much knowledge about school policy. But there’s one thing I do know: The Lions rule!”

I put on the hat and awkwardly started chanting.

“Lions! Lions! Lions!”

“Lions!” Elliot shouted, muffling his voice with a handkerchief. “Lions!”

A couple other boys joined in, including Lance, and before
long, everyone was chanting. Everyone except for Ashley, of course. I kept on chanting as I watched her slip silently through the door and race toward the solitude of the bathroom.

• • •

“Congrats,” Lance said. “That speech was awesome.”

He stuck out a fist and I awkwardly bumped it with my own.

“I have a pretty sweet idea for basketball uniforms,” he said. “I’ll save you a seat tomorrow at lunch.”

Elliot and I walked down the stairs, toward the lobby. I felt guilty about what had happened to Ashley, but there wasn’t time to give it much thought. Too many people were congratulating me on my victory.

“How did you know that would work?” I asked Elliot.

“Because people are animals,” he said. “All you have to do is treat them like—”

“Hey Seymour!”

I turned around and Jessica was in front of me, in yellow shorts and a low-cut tank top. A teacher had handed her a sweatshirt and track pants during the assembly, but evidently, she had never gotten around to changing into them. She laid the gym clothes on a nearby chair and threw her bare arms around me.

“Congratulations!” she said. “I have some ideas for dances—let’s talk soon!”

She scooped up her gym clothes and made her way to the bathroom, turning around once to smile at me.

“Oh my God,” I said.

“Listen to me,” Elliot said. “Now that you’re sitting at Lance’s table, I’ll need to teach you some basic power moves.”

“Did you see that?” I whispered.

“Make sure to sit on Lance’s
left
. If you sit on his right, he’ll never consider you a real threat. That goes back to the days of hand-to-hand combat. If you’re holding a sword in your right hand, you want your rivals on your left, to make it easier to slash them with your sword.”

“I can’t believe she wants to talk to me about dances! Do you think that means she’ll call me on the phone?”

“If Lance starts telling a story, stand up and go to the bathroom without saying anything. I know that doesn’t
sound
particularly aggressive, but trust me, it’ll send a message. And never turn your tray sidewise! The table is a piece of territory and you need to claim as much of it as possible.”