The finalists, p.17
The Finalists, page 17
“These things are very complicated, as I’m sure you all can imagine. When people have this much money, their estates and wills are like reading ancient Sanskrit. It doesn’t make any sense to regular people. But I believe the Hyde family would have all of this spelled out and locked down. They’ve been giving money to the college for more than a century. They’re not going to forget about us now.”
I inject my voice with confidence and certainty. The same way I always tried to sound in the classroom, even in those moments when I wasn’t exactly sure what I was talking about. I always believed that people listened and went along if I sounded like I knew what I was saying. Even if I didn’t.
But I’m not sure. Before today, I worried if Nicholas would continue to honor his family’s commitment to the college. And now that he’s gone, I’m just not sure who will make the decisions. The captain is correct—there isn’t anyone else in line to the Hyde fortune.
“So you think the scholarship will be there?” Duffy asks. “That’s what it sounds like you’re saying. If we all stay and finish, someone will get the grand prize?”
“I believe so. But I think we have bigger problems than—”
It’s Natalia who speaks up this time. “Okay, then here’s another question. If we stay and finish, who decides who wins the scholarship? Doesn’t it have to be you?”
40
I’M SHAKING MY HEAD.
“It’s not going to be me,” I say. “And that’s because we’re not going to be in here. I know some of you might want to risk staying and you want to try to get the big prize, but it’s not safe. We need to find a way out.”
“But what about—”
I cut Emily off. I hate to interrupt a student or play the authority card, but I have to.
“I’ll do everything in my power to see that someone wins this scholarship based on the essays you have already written. And maybe we’ll do the interviews, or maybe someone else representing the Hyde family or their board of directors can step in and help. I just don’t know. But I want to find a way out of here. I suggest we all go around and check these windows. See if one of them can be opened. If so, one of us can go out and get Chief. If not, we smash a window.”
“Smash one now,” Sydney says.
“I’d like to not destroy the house if I don’t have to.”
“The school probably can’t afford to fix a broken window,” Emily says.
“I think it sounds safer to go out an open window rather than a broken one,” I say. “But if we have to break one, we will.”
The captain drops the book of bylaws onto the dining table, where it makes a loud splat. He comes around the side of the table, walking behind the chairs occupied by Emily and Natalia, and walks up to me. “Sir, if I may—”
“What, Captain?”
“Sir, what about democracy? We voted before. So let’s vote again.” He points at Natalia and Emily. “The three of us want to stay and finish if we can. The two of them want to leave. That’s three to two in favor of staying.”
“I voted last time too,” I say.
“I’m talking about the students voting.”
“You must be a Republican,” Sydney says. “You only want to count the votes you know are on your side.”
“I’m a registered Independent, for what it’s worth,” the captain says. “Sir, I don’t think you’ve thought this all the way through. If we could stay after Milo’s death, as disturbing as it was, then we can stay after this one. The doors will open at sixteen hundred. That’s less than three hours from now. If we don’t eat or drink anything and keep a close watch on one another, we can gut it out.”
“Captain, it’s very likely there’s a killer in here. And I can’t allow us to stay in here under those conditions. And you’re awfully damn insistent on keeping us in here.”
The captain throws his shoulders back. Affronted.
“Are you saying you think it’s me?” he says.
“No, I’m not saying that.”
“Sir, I’ve been hearing that kind of stuff my whole life. I thought you were better than that.”
“Oh, come on,” Duffy says. “Are you really going to call him a racist?”
It’s out. And once that kind of thing is out, it’s hard to put back.
Everyone tenses more than at any other time during the day. My own face flushes with shame. I respond by saying the stupidest and most hollow words I could find in such a moment.
“I’m not a racist,” I say.
“Everyone’s a racist,” Emily says. “Besides, you are a middle-aged white dude.”
But the captain ignores me. He points at Duffy. “You know, you started it. Way back when Milo died. You accused me of killing him. Pointing out that I knew a lot about poison. Saying I did CPR to cover up the crime. I know all about that, Mr. Whitley County.”
Duffy’s mouth falls open like somebody cut the strings holding it in place. “Oh, bullshit.”
“It’s a sundown town,” the captain says, gesturing to the room. “I know.”
“It’s a what?” Sydney asks.
“It’s a sundown town,” the captain says, letting his words hang in the air.
“I don’t know what that is,” Sydney says.
The captain remains silent.
Emily clears her throat. “I know what it is. We learned about it in Kentucky history with Dr. Porter. But I don’t think it’s my place to talk about it. . . .”
“Go ahead,” the captain says. “I don’t mind if you explain it.”
“Okay, well, a sundown town is a town where all the people of color, usually Black people, have to be out by sundown. Or else.”
“Or else what?” Sydney asks.
“They get killed,” Emily says. “Lynched. I’m sorry, Captain.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m glad you know. Everybody should know.”
“Oh, shit.” Sydney shudders. “I can’t even . . .”
Duffy’s jaw is set hard, like the prow of a ship. Waves could smash against it and get turned away, evaporating into foam. “That’s so wrong. My papaw hired Black men to work on his farm when nobody else would.”
“Hired,” the captain says. “Hired. Oh, wow. Thanks for hiring us to pick the crops.”
“A farm?” Natalia says. “Hmmm.”
“What are you talking about?” Duffy directs his question to Natalia.
“Just thinking of something. About farms and stuff.”
“What about farms?” Duffy asks.
“Well, the captain said the poison could be an herb or something. So you live on a farm. You said you like to grow things.”
“So I killed them?” Duffy asks. “Because I live on a farm?”
“Is this sundown thing true, Duffy?” Sydney asks.
“There was a horrific race riot in Corbin in 1919,” Natalia says. “Dr. Porter told us all about it. Isn’t Corbin located in Whitley County?”
“That’s right,” the captain says. “I’m glad you know about that. I’m glad they’re teaching it.”
“You said Porter only pushed his own agenda,” Emily says. “Now you like him?”
“Well, he got the part about Whitley County right.”
“Nineteen nineteen, Captain?” Duffy says. “So eighty years before I was born, and you’re holding me to account for it?”
“Now, everybody, stop,” I say. “No one is calling anyone a racist. And no one is calling anyone a murderer. Okay?”
“I think I was kind of accused,” Sydney says. “Right?”
“Join the club,” the captain says.
“I’m going to go check these windows,” I say. “This room and then the rest of the first floor and upstairs if needed. After we’ve checked all the windows, we can decide who’s going to go out. Does anybody want to help me?”
Nobody moves. Except the captain, who returns to his spot at the head of the table, where he picks up the book of bylaws and plops into a chair.
“I just want to get some answers before we leave, okay? If you all want to go without knowing the consequences of that decision, be my guest. It’s possible I can win this thing by default. Maybe I’ll win by sitting right here. I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
Whatever it takes . . .
The phrase stands out, but I don’t comment on it. No need to stir the pot any more.
“Nobody wants to help me?” I ask. “Sydney? You’re taller than any of us. You can reach the windows easily.”
She stares straight head, ignoring me. And ignoring Duffy.
He stares at her profile, then shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll help you, boss. It looks like the temperature’s a little too cold in here for me anyway.”
“Okay, thanks.” I point to the three windows that line the wall of the dining room. “Let’s do this. We’ll be out of here in a second.”
“Sir—”
“We’ll be out of here,” I say. “And safe.”
41
THE THREE WINDOWS LOOK out on the side of the house.
The trees grow close, their branches still filling with leaves after the winter. The windows are rectangular in shape, the glass slightly cloudy. The wooden grilles are painted dark brown to match the furniture in the room. Each window has two sashes, an upper and a lower. A lock, which is meant to keep intruders out, sits on top of the lower sash. But it should be easy enough to turn the lock open on one and lift the lower sash.
“Duffy, can you reach that?” I ask. “It’s a little high for me.”
“Sure.” He stretches his body to its full height, extending his arm as far as it can go. He manages to reach the lock and gives it a twist. He lets out a held breath and comes down off the toes of his boots. “That should do it, boss.”
Before I grab the lift to raise the lower sash, Emily says, “I’m thinking of staying too. Like the captain is. If you all want to go, that’s fine, but we don’t know what happens if we leave. You can read both of our essays and decide whose is best.”
“You’re assuming it’s going to be you because you’re an English major,” Natalia says.
“Not necessarily.”
“You were ready to leave this morning because you found out Major Hyde was involved in a massacre during the Civil War,” Sydney says. “Now you totally want his money. What gives?”
“I don’t want his money. He’s long, long dead, so he can’t have money anymore. But I want what his family is offering.”
“Even though it comes from fossil fuels?” Sydney asks. “And the Civil War?”
“It might be kind of sweet to take that dirty money and finish school with it,” Emily says.
“And work for the Hyde Corporation?” Sydney asks. “Remember, the job is part of it.”
Emily laughs. “Well, I’m not going to take the job. What do you think? I don’t want to go to work for a company like that. They can give me the other stuff and keep that.”
My hands are on the window lift, and when I yank, it doesn’t move.
“What is the job they give you, Mr. Gaines?” Duffy asks.
“It’s usually an entry-level position, but they try to cater it to your interests. So if you’re an English major, they might find something for you to do that involves writing. We had an art major win once, and she went to work in the advertising department. Or they’ll move you around so you can see all aspects of the business.”
“What about an ag major?” Duffy asks.
“Maybe they’ll let you mow the grass,” the captain says.
“I don’t mind that kind of work, Captain,” Duffy says, unruffled. “My hands have been dirty before. They will be again.”
“I’d love to have a job when I graduate,” Sydney says. “I wouldn’t care what field it was in so long as I had benefits and a salary. I could help my family.”
“Amen to that,” Natalia says.
“That’s fine for all of you,” Emily says. “They can keep the job if I win. Maybe they can give the job to one of you. Split the award. Can they do that, Mr. Gaines?”
“No, they can’t.”
“They can give the job to somebody, though,” Emily says. “I mean, if I’m not taking it, then somebody else can get hired. They don’t really want me working at their company, with my tattoos and everything else.”
I tug on the window a few more times, getting nowhere. “Duffy? Can you try to move this?”
“I think it’s painted shut,” he says. “Or busted. But I’ll try.”
“I’m sure I’m not Hyde Corporation material,” Emily says.
“That’s not exactly how it works, Emily.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a whole package. All or nothing. It’s in the bylaws. If you don’t take the job and work for the Hyde Corporation for an entire year, then you don’t get the rest of the money. The tuition or the loan forgiveness.”
“How does that work?” Natalia asks. “They pay your tuition, and you don’t keep the job . . . then what? You’re gone already, right? What are they going to do to you?”
The captain has opened the book of bylaws at the head of the table. He’s licking his fingers and turning the pages rapidly. “Hold on a minute. . . .”
“They require you to sign a contract if you win,” I say. “You have to agree to those terms if you want all of that. If you don’t fulfill the contract, then they can compel you to pay back the other benefits.”
“Are you fucking serious?” Emily asks.
“I am. This all gets explained to the winner after they’ve been chosen. I used to argue with Theodore Hyde, Nicholas’s father, that we should make this clearer up front, but he liked doing it this way. The Hyde family wanted to know a student was really committed once they won the scholarship. It was like a final test.”
“We don’t even know how we got picked,” Natalia says. “How much does the Hyde family or corporation or whatever know about each of us?”
“Wait, wait, wait,” the captain says. “Here it is.” He taps the page with his finger. “ ‘The student selected the winner of the Hyde Scholarship will agree to carry out the terms of the Hyde Scholarship contract. Failure to do so will result in forfeiture of the award and expose the scholarship recipient to potential legal action.’ Hmm. And they only tell us after we win?”
Emily stands up. “Yeah, who knew? Why didn’t anyone tell us that?”
“I heard about it,” Duffy says. “That friend of Milo’s who did it last year. What’s his name?” His brow wrinkles. “Andrew . . . Andrew Pratt. He heard about this provision. If you don’t do it all, they might sue you.” Duffy shrugs. “I didn’t care. I mean, work for a year, get the money. What’s the big deal?”
“Seems reasonable,” the captain says. “It’s their money. They can attach whatever provisions they want. And if you fail to follow through, they can ask for it back.”
“I saw it on a Reddit thread,” Natalia says.
“I don’t always have reliable access to the Internet,” Emily says.
“Maybe we need to have more transparency in the future,” I say. “But I’d like to get back to the windows—”
“But to work for that company?” Emily asks. She makes a face like someone stuffed a dirty sock in her mouth.
“Are you rethinking it?” the captain asks. “Maybe you do want to leave. Duffy’s about to open that window. You can crawl right on out.”
Emily doesn’t look happy. “I can’t believe this. . . . I can’t . . . This is really—this is so different from what I thought. It’s . . . pathological. . . .”
But the captain is right—Duffy is working on the window. He’s yanking on the lift, trying to get the sash to go up.
“Is it painted shut?” I ask.
Duffy is bent down, his face pressed against the glass.
“Mr. Gaines, you’d better come over here and check this out.”
42
I LEAN DOWN NEXT to Duffy.
He’s tapping the glass with his index finger, calling my attention to something outside. I wonder if he’s trying to get me to notice a bug or something crawling around on the ledge.
“See that?” he asks.
I look down, through the pane of glass and outside where his finger directs me. It takes another moment, but then I see it.
See them.
Nails. Driven through the sashes and into the window frames. Nailing the windows shut from the outside.
“Shit,” I say.
“Those have been there a few years at least,” Duffy says. “You can see how weathered and old they are. They’re starting to rust.”
“Is this what the chief meant by the windows being locked from the outside?” I ask, knowing no one can provide me with an answer. “Did he nail them shut sometime in the past?”
“What are you talking about?” Emily asks from behind us.
“Check the other ones,” I say.
Duffy moves to his right, to the next window and the next. He leans down at each of them, pressing his face to the glass. He shakes his head at both of them.
“No go, boss. They’re all nailed shut.”
“What are you saying?” Sydney asks.
“The windows are nailed shut in here,” I say. “We can’t open them.”
The captain stands up, tossing the bylaws onto the table again. “How can they do that? You can’t nail windows shut in a building. Not on a college campus. It’s a fire hazard.”
“Somebody did it,” Duffy says.
“But why?” the captain asks. He looks at me like I’ll know.
“It’s weird. There’ve been some break-ins on campus over the past few years. About five years ago, somebody got into the dean’s office and stole a bunch of computers.”
