Don't Get Caught (13 page)

“Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!”

I practically hit the ceiling at the outburst.

“What are you still doing here?” he shouts. “Get the hell out!”

I leave so fast there’s a vapor trail.

In each office I pass, guidance counselors, secretaries, and even the school psychologist are staring at their computers. In the classrooms, I walk by kids who have their phones out, not even trying to hide their laughter.

I’m happy for Ellie. Her idea was brilliant, and I’m sure some part of her wishes everyone knew that she’s the one who’s pulled this off. Because even though she’s in every picture, no one can tell it’s her. Why? Because she’s wearing the Zippy the Golden Eagle mascot costume she stole during the homecoming game.

Among the pictures we took:

1. Zippy spray-painting a naked woman on the side of a vacant building downtown.

2. Zippy with an ax poised over a neighborhood dog’s neck.

3. Zippy pretending to take a leak on the school sign.

4. Zippy hunched over, ready to snort a long line of white power through his massive beak.

5. Zippy passed out on the football field surrounded by beer cans and condoms.

6. And the final image—Zippy standing on a bucket with a noose around his neck.

Oh, and prominently displayed in each picture on Zippy’s feathery chest? A Chaos Club card.

• • •

After school, I head in the direction of Ellie’s homeroom and spot her in the hall coming my way, unable to hold back her excitement.

“Did you get it? Please tell me you got it.”

I tap the phone in my pocket.

Ellie throws her arms around me and kisses my cheek hard in the middle of the crowded hall. The tent I pitch could house a circus.

“Can I see it?” she says, referring, unfortunately, to the video.

“Let’s wait until we get to your car. Too many people around.”

“Come on then!”

Ellie pulls at my hand, dragging me toward the exit. Her excitement is contagious, and soon, I’m rushing through the halls with her. We’re closing in on the front lobby by the main office, when coming toward us is the last person in the world I want to see: Stranko. I slow a little, thinking maybe we should duck into a classroom, but Ellie’s tugs at my arm.

“Relax,” she says. “Act natural.”

I grip Ellie’s hand tight as Stranko approaches. We don’t need to worry though. Stranko goes right past us like we’re not there. He’s on a mission, and from the tight set of his jaw, it’s one to seek and destroy. And I know Stranko’s target because he was muttering the name under his breath as he passed.

“We have to follow him,” I say.

“Why? Do you think he found out who did the doors?”

“I’m not sure, but we can’t let him get away.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s about to bust Wheeler.”

Being right sucks.

Ellie and I watch from behind a locker as Stranko goes into Mr. Fleiger’s room and escorts a stone-faced Wheeler to his office with Mr. Fleiger following.

“What do you think he did?” Ellie says.

The possibilities:

a. Wheeler got caught planning a prank.

b. Wheeler got caught pulling a prank.

c. Wheeler got caught cheating.

d. Wheeler got caught with Stranko’s phone.

e. All of the above.

Everyone knows when you don’t know the answer you’re supposed to choose
C
, but in this case, I fear it’s
D
.

“We need to let the others know,” I say. “If this is all about to go to hell, they need to be prepared, maybe even leave the country.”

Heist Rule #18:
Protect your crew
.

Ellie sends a text to Adleta and Malone, and we take up surveillance in the lobby, sitting on a ratty couch across from the receptionist’s desk. While we wait, Mrs. Wheeler comes through the front doors and heads straight for Stranko’s office. It’s not two minutes before Adleta and Malone show up, walking and talking together as they approach. No chance this scene would have happened a year ago. Funny how that happens.

“Anything yet?” Adleta asks.

“They’re still in there,” I say. “Wheeler’s mom just showed up.”

“But we don’t know why?” Malone says.

“No, but it can’t be good.”

We all stare pointlessly at the office for a few seconds, as if the answer will suddenly appear on the glass.

“By the way, nice prank, Ellie,” Malone says. “Suicidal Zippy should be the cover of the yearbook.”

Adleta says, “People in my homeroom were going crazy. Even Mrs. Bross was laughing.”

“Thanks, guys. Max deserves some of the credit too. He took the pictures.”

I scowl and wave off the recognition.

“What’s wrong with you?” Malone says.

“This isn’t going to end well.”

“Seriously? You’re such a Debbie Downer. You don’t know why they’re in there. For all you know, Wheeler called Fleiger an asshole.”

“No, Stranko’s onto us.”

I tell them about going to film Stranko in his office and his asking me what I know about his missing phone.

“And you denied it, right?” Malone says.

“Of course.”

“Then that’s all you need to do.”

“That’s not the point. He suspects us. We need to be careful.”

It’s another ten minutes before Stranko’s door opens and Wheeler and his mom come out. Wheeler struts like he doesn’t care about whatever just happened, but his mom looks just the opposite, even pointing an angry finger back toward Stranko’s office.

“Man, she’s pissed,” Adleta says.

“No Stranko though. That’s a good sign for us,” Ellie says.

I give Wheeler a low whistle that draws his attention.

“Any bets?” Adleta says.

“I’ll go with cheating,” Malone says.

She’s probably right. But considering all the work he’s been doing lately to turn things around, the thought makes me feel like the world’s worst friend.

“Hey, guys,” Wheeler says.

“
Hey, guys?
That’s it?” Malone says. “What happened?”

“Fleiger accused me of cheating, and I called him a dick.”

Malone looks at us with I-told-you-so eyes.

“So why does he think you cheated?” Ellie says.

“Because I got a B on his stupid exam.”

“He knows that already?”

“Yeah, it was a Scantron test.”

Ah, the Scantron, the lazy teacher’s test format. So easy a chimp can grade it.

“The thing is, I didn’t cheat,” Wheeler says. “I studied my ass off for that exam. It’s not my fault that for review, Fleiger read off every question straight from the test. I just wrote them all down.”

“Did you tell him that?” Ellis asks.

“Yeah, and all he could say is there was no way I could do that well after screwing around all semester. Finally, I just lost it.”

“And called him a dick,” Malone says.

“A shriveled dick, but yeah.”

“So what happened in the office?”

“Mom took my side, of course. She knows how much I’ve been studying. By the end of the meeting, she wanted to call both of them dicks too.”

“You mean shriveled dicks,” Adleta says.

“The thing is I don’t blame Fleiger for accusing me. It’s not like I have the cleanest record. But Stranko really pushed that I was cheating and even called Mrs. Nally to grade my first-period exam and let me know how I did. He’s really after me. Now I have to take a different exam from Fleiger tomorrow. You just know he’s going to make it impossibly hard so I fail.”

“How’s that fair?” Malone says.

“Stranko called it a ‘compromise.’ I think he was just trying to get my mom out of the office before she put him through the wall.”

“You’ll do great,” Ellie says. “I know you will. I can help you study if you want.”

“I’ll be fine, but thanks.”

“What about calling him a dick? Did Stranko hit you with verbal assault?”

“Another week of work crew,” Wheeler says, making a whoop-de-doo motion with his finger. “Okay, I’d better go. Mom’s waiting for me.”

He gets a few steps away before turning back.

“What sucks is I did study. It’s not like I’m dumb. I have good DNA. My brothers prove that. I guess it’s going to take people a while to catch up with this new version of me.”

Now I feel even guiltier for having doubted him. Am I really any better than Fleiger and Stranko?

“See?” Malone says. “There was nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not so sure,” I say.

“Why’s that?”

“Because I know Wheeler. Stranko had better watch his back.”

• • •

The rest of exam week goes quietly, and on his retake, Wheeler earns a C-, giving him his first no-F report card since seventh grade. The achievement is celebrated in the Wheeler household like he’s just cured cancer. In my house, the Bs and Cs filling my report card are met with a resigned “We know you can do better, Max” from my parents.

The first few weeks of the new semester are quiet—so quiet, in fact, that I’m lulled into a sense of normalcy. Classes are tolerable, and we even get a snowstorm on a Friday, giving us a three-day weekend. Life overall is good, so of course, something has to come along and screw it up.

It’s a freezing Wednesday during third period, and I’m zoned out at my desk in Navarro’s class watching
Dances with Wolves
, the social studies department’s idea of a unit on Native Americans, when my phone vibrates in my pocket.

Ellie: Get up here now.

By
here,
Ellie means the main office where she’s still an aide. Claiming it’s an emergency, I ask Mr. Allen if I can use the bathroom. I then hurry through the hall, taking the steps two at a time as I head for the office. As I pass the girls’ bathroom just off the lobby, the door opens and Ellie pulls me inside.

“What are you doing?”

“Relax, no one’s in here,” she says. “Something big is going on. A couple men in suits looking all official came in earlier. They said something to Mrs. Engen, and she turned so pale I thought she might pass out. All the aides were told to go to the library for the rest of the period. I doubled back and came in here. Stranko came out and offered to shake hands, but they wouldn’t take it. They’re all up in his office right now.”

“Who are they?”

“I’m not sure, but they weren’t very friendly looking.”

“I don’t get it,” I say. “What does this have to do with me?”

“I’ll show you.”

Ellie checks the hall to make sure it’s safe, and we step out, giving us a clear shot of the lobby.

“That,” Ellie says, and I look to where she’s pointing.

Oh.

Taped above the office door on the glass frame is one of our replica Chaos Club cards.

“Wheeler,” I say.

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

“This can’t be good.”

“Where are you going?” Ellie asks.

“To find out what Wheeler did.”

Two minutes later, I find Wheeler in the foreign language lab. He’s at a computer with headphones on, repeating into a microphone what the animated Spanish-speaking mouse on the screen is saying. Wheeler’s so focused it takes a second to get his attention.

“What did you do?” I say once he joins me in the hall.

“Huh?”

“You know what I’m talking about. Men in suits came into Stranko’s office. Ellie saw the Chaos Club card you put up.”

An evil, satisfied smile slowly creeps across Wheeler’s face.

“Oh man, it worked.”

“What the hell did you do, Dave?”

“Nothing big. I just sent a couple emails from Stranko’s account.”

“Didn’t he deactivate it by now?”

“Yeah, but I can still use his email by logging into his office computer. This building is basically deserted if you get here early enough.”

I’m afraid to ask, but I have to.

“What were the messages?”

“Just some private thoughts Stranko shared with the White House. It turns out he really doesn’t agree with a lot of the president’s policies. Apparently, he’s angry enough to make some very specific threats.”

“So those guys—”

“Are probably Secret Service,” Wheeler finishes, and once he starts laughing, he can’t stop. “Did they take him out in handcuffs? Please tell me they did.”

“It’s not funny, Wheeler. He could end up in jail. I’m no fan of Stranko’s, but he’s never going to stop looking for us now. Don’t you get that? You didn’t take care of anything. You’ve just pissed him off for eternity.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“You’ve committed a federal crime, Wheeler.”

“Oh, just stop. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, but I do know I’m not done with Stranko yet.”

“What’s next? Framing him for murder?”

He only answers with raised eyebrows.

I walk back to Navarro’s room, expecting the Secret Service to drop out of the ceiling to waterboard me in the janitor’s closet. The two granola bars and can of Red Bull I downed after second period crash in my stomach like a tidal wave reaching land.

I’d talked myself into being okay with Adleta’s and Malone’s pranks, justifying what they did by believing the lie that their victims deserved the revenge, but Wheeler’s crosses a line I can’t ignore. Potential federal prosecution will do that to a guy.

Back in Navarro’s room, I send a text to all the other members of the Water Tower Five.

Meet in the theater before lunch.

• • •

The rest of the crew is already at the front of the stage when I walk in an hour later. I can hear them even from the back of the theater, and they’re making no effort to hide their conversation.

“Oh man,” Adleta’s saying. “Practice is going to suck tonight.”

“Sorry about that,” Wheeler says.

“No, it’s worth it. I only wish we could’ve heard those Secret Service guys grilling him. I hope they did a full body-cavity search.”

“They looked so serious,” Ellie says. “I’ll bet Stranko had to change his boxers afterward.”

“Yeah, I wish I could’ve been a fly on the wall in that meeting,” Malone says.

Wheeler sees me coming and says, “Max is pissed at me though.”

Malone says to me, “You’re worried he’ll get caught?”

“Partially that, yeah.”

“Dude,” Wheeler says, “I told you I was careful. I used Stranko’s computer, and it’s not like the Secret Service can trace his phone. I already told you, the phone’s been deactivated and the battery died a long time ago.”

“And if you do get caught somehow?”

Wheeler puts his hands up in a
so what
manner.

“I’m a minor. What can they really do?”

I’m no vocabulary wizard, but I think the appropriate word here is
naive
.

“You said ‘partially,’” Malone says. “What else are you mad about?”

Wheeler says, “Yeah, why did you summon us here, King Max?”

They’re all waiting for my answer, and I’m worried they’re ready to revolt. I need to tread lightly. Because the thing is, I still want to take down the Chaos Club, and to do that, I need their help. At the same time, the pranks bother me, but they already know that.

So how do I handle the situation?

By following Heist Rule #19:
Lead with confidence and people will follow
.

“Look, what we’ve pulled off this year so far has been amazing,” I say. “No, strike that—
your
pranks have been amazing. I haven’t even pulled mine yet. So I can’t really sit here and give you crap for who your pranks are against, especially since they’re all damn impressive.”

Everyone seems to straighten a little at this.

“At this point though, I think we need to rethink our strategy. Nothing we’ve done has helped us expose the Chaos Club. And my locker still smells like a bakery. So I don’t think more pranks are going to do anything.”

“What’s the plan then?” Wheeler asks.

“Give me a few days to think that over,” I say. “But no more pranks for now, okay?”

This is the moment it could all go to hell. I’ve basically just given an order. In the movies, the heist crew leader is always dealing with adults, not teenagers. And it’s not like there was ever a vote making me the group Leader with a capital
L
. The four all stare at me, and I brace myself for the assault of laughter that’s about to begin.

Then Ellie says, “Okay.”

Adleta says, “Cool.”

And Wheeler says, “Whatever you say, boss.”

It takes longer than I’m comfortable with, but Malone finally says, “Got it.”

And just like that, I’m a freaking genius.

“Wait a second,” Wheeler says. “Is this all a setup so you don’t have to pull a prank?”

“No, that wouldn’t be a fair. You did your prank. I’ll do mine.”

“Promise?” Malone says.

“Promise.”

• • •

February hits a week later, and let’s be honest, February sucks. It’s freezing cold, perpetually dark, and everyone walks around like their brains have gone cold and dark too. February defenders—of which there can’t be many—argue it’s not the worst month because it’s so short. But if your most redeeming quality is that you’re not around very long, you might as well not be around at all. And don’t get me started on that stupid spelling. Eliminate that dumb
R
and maybe we can talk.