Dead Politician Society

Chapter 28: Clare

Clare fumbled with the clip on her motorcycle’s helmet holder. Damn thing had been glitchy when she’d bought the bike from its previous owner, and it was too small a problem to spend an hour to fix. She had almost locked the helmet in when a voice behind her made her fumble. It was frantic and saying her name. She couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman until she turned around.

“Brian!” she said as her helmet tumbled to the sidewalk. “What’s wrong?”

“You missed the Commies’ lunchtime meeting.”

“That’s why you’re so upset?” Clare bent down and fixed the helmet in place. This time it clicked. “I told Susannah I wouldn’t be there. I had a dentist appointment.”

She hoped he didn’t ask to see her teeth, which still had the same black coffee stains that had been there that morning. Or maybe she should preempt his mistrust. She added, “An appraisal for a root canal. Trust me; I would have much preferred to be with you guys at the meeting.”

“Are you in their club?” Brian’s eyes cast down toward his freshly polished shoes. “Oh, what am I saying? Of course you are. You might be new to the school, but you’re perfect for them.”

“Perfect for what?” Clare was perversely flattered. And pleased—because she had at least one person convinced she was a bona fide poli sci student.

“The SPU.”

Clare fished a cigarette from her knapsack. She aimed for somewhere between completely innocent and a little bit curious when she said, “Shit. You mean like from those cards the police were showing us?”

Brian sighed, like a child whose parents insisted Santa Claus filled his stocking long past the age he might believe that. “It’s the Society for Political Utopia. Are you in it?”

“No,” Clare said. “Should I be? I mean, how do I sign up?”

“You can’t sign up to a secret society.”

Clare lit her cigarette. “Well then I guess that’s out.”

In the staff parking lot, she eyed the Ford Escort she’d been told was registered to Matthew Easton. She hoped she could pull off her plan. If she was caught, she might as well pack in her cover role.

Since she couldn’t do anything until Brian left, she began to walk toward her next class. She’d have to sneak out early—while Easton was teaching his own class, one Clare was thankfully not in.

Brian followed. “You really don’t care if they let you in?”

“Why would I?” Clare offered her cigarette pack to Brian. She wasn’t surprised when he wrinkled his nose in response. His parents had no doubt told him smoking was dirty. “Am I supposed to let some group I’ve never heard of make me feel inadequate because I’m not a member?”

Brian’s eyes watered. She couldn’t push him too far.

“Sorry, Brian. But why do you want in so badly?”

“You’d want in, too, if you knew more about it. It’s the only place in this ivory tower university where anything real happens. The society isn’t afraid to break the law to get things done.”

“What kind of things?”

“You remember when an Upper Canada College computer lab got broken into a few years ago? They’d just bought all that state-of-the-art equipment so their overprivileged students could train their brains on the latest and greatest technology. In case they didn’t already have it at home, them and their nannies.”

“No.”

Brian waved smoke away from his face. “Well anyway, the next morning, all the stolen computers showed up inside a Jane and Finch classroom. One of the poorest neighborhoods in the city. They were all hooked up and running, ready for the ghetto kids to jump in and learn. And on each keyboard was an SPU card with a typed message on the back: You’re welcome.”

Clare smiled. She had to admit it sounded pretty cool. “So were the computers returned to the private school?”

“No. A UCC alumnus said he’d donate the money to replace UCC’s computer lab, so long as Jane and Finch could keep the stolen goods. He also insisted that the police not search for the perpetrator. It was pretty sweet.”

“So why do you need to get into the club to do cool things?” Clare said.

“It’s as much about the networking. SPU members are going to be somebodies. It’s already happening for some of the original members. They’re only in their twenties, and they’re being cultivated by the backroom boys to run for office.”

“Wow.” There was still so much Clare did not understand. Like if it was a secret society, how did Brian know who its ex-members were? “And, um, that’s what you want for your life? To run for office?”

“Oh,” Brian said. “We don’t all get to choose. My mom says I’m like Jesus.”

“Uh.”

Brian grinned. “I know what you’re thinking. I don’t think I’m the second coming or anything. She means that for some of us, our destinies are pre-ordained.”

“And you’re cool with that?”

“Yeah. There have been enough signs. And I’m lucky, in a way. I don’t have to go through all that angst my peers do, trying to figure out who I am and find my own identity. No offense.”

“None taken. So you don’t have to find your identity because your parents have already told you?”

Brian nodded. “And I’ll get married, of course. To a woman. Even though I’m gay. But probably not a woman with a motorcycle,” he said with an apology in his eyes.

“It’s okay. I doubt I’ll ever get married anyway. But your parents can’t make you…”

“They’re not making me. And I’ll level with my wife. They call it a beard, when a woman helps a gay man seem straight. It’s all part of the show. Like wearing a nice suit and learning to speak in public. You can’t win in politics without taking care of the show as well as the content.”

Well, okay. Who was Clare to tell anyone how to live a life?

“So you don’t know anyone who’s a member?” she said. “We’re not talking Bilderbergers here. How hard can it be to learn these members’ names?”

“Thanks,” Brian said. “Maybe I’m as dumb as my father thinks I am. I’ve been trying for three years to get in. Now I’m in my last year here, and I’m no closer to penetrating the society than when I arrived as a stupid little freshman.”

“You’re not dumb, Brian.” Clare was outraged that any parent would try to make their kid feel otherwise. She thought of her own father and her fist clenched even harder. “The society’s probably not even real. Just an elaborate compilation of rumors.”

“Rumors don’t murder politicians.” Brian kicked at a pebble. “Of course the society is real.”