Chapters (30)
- Cover
- ALSO BY SEAN DESMOND
- Dedication
- September 18, 1987
- September 18
- September 26
- October 9
- October 15
- October 16
- October 19
- October 23
- November 13
- November 13
- November 30
- December 7
- December 26
- January 1, 1988
- January 31
- February
- March 17
- March 21
- April 8
- April 8
- April 8
- April 15
- May 22
- June 3
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“Whatever divinity you claim is up to you. You can be an ayatollah, a rabbi, a patriarch—just remember the judges have to be convinced that your holiness is next to godliness.”
“Ayatollah, huh?” Flanagan was starting to get the delirious, glassy-eyed confidence of a cult leader.
“Come on, Flanagan, let me do the religious one.” Rob riffled through his backpack until he found the remains of his half-eaten lunch. “I’ll throw in some Little Debbie Nutty Bars.”
“Deal.”
Rob tossed the cellophaned wafers at Flanagan.
“Fine, McGhee is theocracy, Flanagan a nut-bar oligarchy.”
“Sir, can I—?”
“No more trading.” Oglesby swatted across the front row with Ptolemy like a roulette dealer waving off bets. “The final country must represent democracy. So let’s see . . .”
Oglesby’s mouth curled into a wry smile, and he looked to the back row. “Mr. Malone. Or should I say President Malone? You will head the democratic state in the Game.”
“Thank you, sir.” Dan swallowed his excitement. A disappointed groan came from the rest of the sophomores as Oglesby had clearly selected his favorites for heads of state. Malone especially. The Game felt rigged.
“Be careful what you pine for, gentlemen. In my seventeen years of teaching, the democracy has never won.”
Oglesby gave Dan a cool, ominous look that suggested he rise to the occasion. Dan returned fire with a cocky scout’s salute that disguised a cascade of internal panic. Yup, I’m screwed.
“The rest of you will be the Vox Populi and graded on your debate, which will factor into the vote made by the judges. So study Mr. Orwell’s allegory well. Consider Atticus, Prince Hal, Daedalus, and all the other heroes we’ve encountered, and ponder how their words and deeds could help win you the Blaireric. The Game will happen April fifteenth, a week from today.”
Dan felt the pressure coil in his shoulder blades. He knew what was on the line without Oglesby’s saying it: If I win the Game, I’m a Norwegian rat for sure.
“Why are all the signs in . . .”
“Vietnamese?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Welcome to East Richardson.”