“Leave him alone,” Marcia said. “We’ll handle this in-house. And I expect you to keep your promise-I don’t want to see one word about this in the press.”

“Playing it safe before the election?” Victor asked.

“What do you think?” Marcia asked, returning to her seat. She scribbled some quick notes to herself and then looked up at Ober. “If you tender your resignation, we won’t file charges.”

“What if I want to keep my job?” Ober asked, his face now pasty white.

“That’s not an option,” she said. “At this point, you’re fired. If you’d like to tender your resignation first, I can save both of us a great deal of headache. Otherwise, we’ll have to formally release you, which means documenting the entire story for your personnel file.”

“But-”

“That’s the deal,” Marcia said as she resumed her writing.

Ober realized he had no choice. “I’ll resign.”

“Fine,” Marcia said, putting down her pen. “You have ten minutes to clean out your office. Leave your Senate I.D. with me.”

As he walked back to his office, Ober’s mind was flooded with the repercussions of the past half hour. After two years in Washington, he had nothing to show for it-his first professional success was now gone. His short-lived promotion had given him the slightest taste of victory, but once again, he felt himself sliding back toward failure. He could never show his face in the office again. When he saw his colleagues on the street, he’d have to lie about why he quit. His parents and relatives would also have to hear the fabricated excuse for why he no longer worked in the Senate. And it better be a good excuse, he thought as he reached his desk, because my mother is going to kill me.

As he collected his personal belongings, Ober’s hands were shaking. Removing his diploma from the wall, he was afraid he’d drop it. Although he had been instructed not to take any files from his office, Ober opened his desk drawer and pulled out the only folder that was definitely his. Flipping through the three hundred and twenty-seven photocopies of himself, he thought about the day he started working for Senator Stevens and how he’d sneaked into the copy room to make the first picture in the pile. He remembered the excitement of starting the photo album and how he wanted to keep it a secret from his roommates until it was finished. I guess it’s finished, he thought, staring at the pile of paper in his hands. It’s all finished. Now I can finally show Eric and Nathan and Ben. Ben. Ben. Ben. Simmering in the silence, Ober took the folder and hurled it against the wall, causing three hundred and twenty-seven pages to fly through the air. What’s wrong with me? he wondered, collapsing in his old chair. Then, amid the remains of the paper hurricane that covered his former office, Ober cried.

This can’t be happening, Ben thought as he sprinted from the Metro station to his house. Maybe Eric heard the story wrong. Rounding the corner of his block, Ben stepped on a sheet of ice, which sent his body skidding and his right hip smashing into the frozen pavement. Ignoring the pain as he stumbled to his feet, he resumed his mad dash toward the house. He threw open the front door, ran inside, and saw Ober sitting on the sofa. Still dressed in his navy suit, with his tie loosened, Ober glared directly at the television, refusing to acknowledge Ben’s entrance.

“I came as soon as I heard,” Ben said, dropping his coat on the floor. “How’re you doing? Are you okay?” Pausing, but getting no response, Ben tried again. “C’mon, Ober, talk to me. I’m here to help.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Ober said, his voice quiet and spiritless. “I helped you. My boss found out. I got fired.”

Crossing over to the couch, Ben took a seat next to his friend. “Ober, you know I never meant-”

“I know you didn’t mean for this to happen,” Ober said as his shoulders sagged in defeat.

“I swear, I thought Rick was bluffing. I never thought he’d actually do it, and I thought-”

“It doesn’t matter what you thought,” Ober interrupted, his voice still barely above a whisper. “I lost my job. That’s all that really matters.”

Ben stared up at Eric’s painting, unable to face his roommate. Searching for the perfect reason, the perfect explanation, and the perfect apology, he was silent. In an argument, Ben was never at a loss for words. But when it came to apologies, he was awful. Finally, he came up with “I’m sorry.”

Ober’s eyes welled with tears. He covered his face with his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” Ben said, putting a hand on Ober’s shoulder. “I can’t apologize enough for this.”

“My life is ruined…”

“It’s not ruined,” Ben insisted, struggling to get Ober’s attention. “You’ll get a new job. A better job.”

“No, I won’t,” Ober sobbed. “It took me five months to find that job. How am I going to get a new one?”

“We’ll help you find a new one,” Ben said. “It really isn’t as bad as you think. Between the five of us, we can-”

“That’s not even true,” Ober interrupted, wiping his eyes. “You know I’m not like you guys. I wasn’t a straight-A student. I’m not a genius. I’m a moron.”

“Don’t start with that. You’re as bright as any one of us.”

“No, I’m not,” Ober said, his voice still hushed. “You said it and it was true: I’m really not.”

“You are.”

“No, I’m not,” Ober said. “This’s the sixth job I’ve been fired from. It’ll take me months to find another job. And it’ll be worse than the last one. My life is just like our board-game company-one big bust.”

“Ober, don’t be so rough on yourself,” Ben said, his hand still on Ober’s shoulder. “Life doesn’t revolve around SAT scores and grade-point averages. Once you start looking, a sharp personality will carry you just as far. And if you have anything, you have that.”

“I don’t even have that,” Ober said, pulling away from Ben. “I’m not bright; I’m not resourceful; I don’t work well under pressure. Why do you think I can’t hold down a job? I’ve been failing at this one for months-they would’ve fired me soon anyway. This whole thing with Rick just sped up the process.”

“That’s not true,” Ben said.

“How do you know what’s true?” Ober asked, his eyes once again filling with tears. “You weren’t there. You’ve never seen me at work. Half the time, I don’t even know what I’m doing there.”

“You were an administrative assistant,” Ben interrupted. “That was a good job.”

“It was a below-average job,” Ober said, wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hand. “And the only reason I had it was because I investigated a death threat that I wrote. If it wasn’t for that, I’d still be answering phones.” Catching his breath, he looked into Ben’s eyes. “Why did this have to happen?”

Surprised by Ober’s emotional collapse, Ben almost didn’t recognize the friend he’d known since grade school. But as Ober became more hysterical, Ben instinctively stepped forward. “This was all my fault,” Ben said, embracing him.

“I just want it to be like it was when we first got here,” Ober said, his face buried in Ben’s shoulder. “Just the four of us. No fighting. No arguing.”

“It will be,” Ben said. “I promise.”

“It won’t,” Ober said. “It never will again. It’s over. We’re finished.”

“No, we’re not,” Ben said. “We’re all still friends. We’ll get through it.”

“No, we won’t!” Ober sobbed. “Nathan and you barely speak. Eric and Nathan never speak. I’m having the worst day of my life, and both of them are too damn busy with work to even come home to see me. That’s not a friendship. It’s a joke.”

“We’re not finished,” Ben insisted. “Rick won’t-”

“It doesn’t matter what Rick does anymore,” Ober wailed. “The damage is done. Nathan will never forgive you for getting me fired. And as long as Nathan is mad at you, Eric will be mad at him. You can’t change that.”