Colton could not mask his exasperation. “Okay. When?”
And now came the fun part, according to Paul, the GM’s resident expert on all things chess. Paul had explained to Matt (using a chess board and with constant reference to Bobby Fischer’s 1956 “Game of the Century”) that, if you made your opening moves correctly and your opponent assessed you as no threat to his superior playing skills, then, once you’d “messed up” and left your queen vulnerable, your opponent would be so distracted by the possibility of capturing your queen that he would ignore all evidence of a pending trap.
“I’ve been thinking about SGA,” Matt said.
“What about it?”
“I assume you’ll be running for re-election?” Matt asked.
Colton gave a curt nod.
“I’ll run for vice president then,” Matt said. “When are the elections?” He knew the answer but was enjoying Colton’s discomfort.
“March 22nd. But Huebsch is running for re-election as my vice president.”
“I figured as much,” said Matt. “That’s why you’ll need to endorse me.”
“Why on earth would I do that? You sucker punched me!”
“I didn’t know you as well then,” Matt said, implying that he regretted the punch, when, in reality, now that he knew Colton better, he wished he’d pummeled him senseless. “Face it, you deserve a better vice president than Huebsch. We both know he fucked up that Paul thing. Besides, you and I are going to be the team that rids this campus of William Tyler Jennings.”
Colton grinned stupidly.
Matt continued. “So, how about this? In a couple weeks, at the end of the SGA meeting, you announce your candidacy for re-election—and endorse me for vice president? Then, on March 22nd, after the polls close at 5:00p.m., you and I drive out to that farm and get that box?”
Colton considered things a moment. “Before I endorse you, I need to see proof of your loyalty.” His beady snake eyes were bright.
Matt shrugged. “How?”
“I overheard your conversation with Laura about that vegetarian resolution,” Colton said. “The one that got tabled. When it comes up for consideration again, you’re going to speak against it and vote against it—and make sure it is defeated.”
“What do you care about the vegetarian thing?” Matt asked.
“I don’t,” said Colton. “But I heard you promise that you would support it. If you want to be my vice president, you’ll kill that resolution.”
Chapter 38: Prep Work
Friday, March 22, 1996
4:06 a.m. Matt scrambled awake, flinging his covers to the floor, stifling a scream. He huddled in the dark, hugging his knees. Sweating. Gulping air.
Adam had stood beside his bed, swathed in pale, ghostly light, his left wrist streaming blood. The wound had been jagged and ugly. Adam had seemed as surprised by it as did Matt, and kept wiping at the gash in his flesh as though he could stanch the flow, but managed only to smear himself with streaks of red.
Adam had not been the one to cut himself this time.
Matt had felt something wet and sticky in his hand, had looked down and seen that he was holding a bloody boxcutter. How could this be? He would sooner cut himself than Adam! Could not live without him.
Adam’s eyes had been so sad as he stood there dying. “He’s not worth it,” he had said.
“I never asked you to do this,” he had said, meaning to exact vengeance against Colton.
Matt had been frozen in place—as happens in dreams, the blade stuck in his hand, his fingers locked around it. He had strained to reach Adam and bind his wound but had been helpless to do so. Had ached to kiss his freckled nose and nuzzle him back to life but couldn’t.
Now, awake, his heart pounding, Matt struggled to process the emotions the dream had sparked: profound grief and guilt. Adam’s death had seemed so real that Matt’s mind still believed him gone. He had to talk himself out of calling Adam’s house just to hear his voice and know that he was safe.
The guilt, though, persisted long after Matt’s mind accepted that he had not slashed his boyfriend with a boxcutter, had not watched him die. He had never told Adam about his plan for Colton’s takedown. Had guessed thatAdam—sweet, gentle soul that he was—would oppose it vehemently. Anyone who chose to be a vegetarian out of concern for animals would never consent to harming a human, even a snake like Colton Langley.
And now here they were mere hours away from Colton’s reckoning, and Matt had no intention either of telling Adam his plans or of altering them. Colton would pay for his sins, and Adam would never learn of Matt’s role in it.
