The Fourth Stall (14 page)

“Aye. Those wankers will pay. I’ll kick their arses,” Great White added.

“We will, guys. We’ll get back at them,” I said. “For now, though, you should all just go home. If you want to stay on board and help me get back at these jerks, meet me in my office tomorrow at morning recess.”

They nodded. With that, we all parted ways to go home. The walk felt much longer than nine or ten blocks. I couldn’t think about anything but who had double-crossed us. One person kept creeping into my mind as the obvious suspect, but I kept erasing it immediately. Because there was no way. Skimming some cash was one thing, but double-crossing your best friend into that kind of beating? No. There was no way he’d do that.

Whoever the snitch was, though, we needed to figure it out, and fast.

Chapter 19

V
ince was waiting for me in my room when I got home.

“What happened?” Vince asked as he examined my face.

I had told my parents that I hurt it while doing some crazy stunt on my bike. It’s the same story I told every time I got an injury. They always believed it. They must have thought I was the worst bike rider in the world. That’s one thing I’ve learned from watching reality TV shows: When you’re lying, consistency is important. You can’t always be changing your story or no one will believe you.

I didn’t say anything to Vince. I could barely stand to look at him.

“Mac, I’m sorry. I really am. I should have told you,” Vince started.

“Told me what? That you were
stealing
money? Yeah, I guess that would have been nice to know!”

Vince sighed. “Mac, please just hear me out, okay? I was too embarrassed to say anything today with Fred and Joe there, but I’ve got a reason. Will you please just hear me out?”

“Fine,” I said. It’d better be good, I thought, or this is going to be a solo operation from now on.

“It’s my mom. She lost her job a few weeks ago. And, well, we’re not like your family, Mac. We don’t have a house and cars, and I don’t have a dad making any money to help out. My mom hasn’t been able to find another job, and she’s been sitting around the house in her robe all day talking to the TV. I mean, when my grandma does stuff like that it’s funny, but with Mom it’s just freaking me out,” he said. He was close to tears now, and already some guilt was starting to creep in and replace my anger.

I nodded at him to continue.

“We’re in bad shape, and my brother has been giving part of his paychecks to her, which has been making her embarrassed, but she still takes it because we’re that desperate. So I’ve been helping out where I can. I mean, I’m not giving her the cash personally, because she’d never take it from me, but I’ve been slipping twenties into her purse when she’s sleeping and stuff like that, and I think she just doesn’t question where it comes from. Once I even heard her thanking my dad one night when she found a ten that I’d put in her dresser drawer. But either way, it’s been making a difference. I mean, how could I sit back and let us lose our trailer or have our heat and water cut off when I know what kind of money we’re sitting on?”

I nodded again. “You could’ve just come to me for help. You didn’t have to steal it . . . .”

“Well, that’s easy for you to say, isn’t it? You don’t know what it’s like to have breakfast for dinner four nights a week because pancakes are cheap. Or to get Victor’s old clothes as birthday presents. I was embarrassed, Mac. It’s embarrassing.”

He was right. I didn’t really know what that’s like. My family had moved out of that trailer park years ago. I barely remember what it’s like not to get new presents for birthdays and holidays and not to get to go on vacations to Disney World and stuff like that. I sometimes forget that Vince still lives in that same old yellow-and-red trailer with brown carpet that always smells like milk for some reason. This actually explained a lot. It also explained why he’d been acting so miserly lately about hiring kids to help Fred.

“I’m sorry, Vince. You’re right. But you should know you don’t have to be embarrassed. You’re my best friend, my business partner. I’ve got your back no matter what. We could’ve worked something out.”

He nodded. “I guess. But I was also worried about the Cubs game. I couldn’t take it if we missed it because of my crazy mom. I mean, if I ruined that for us, I’d probably have to denounce my Cubs fandom forever and declare you the better fan, which we both know isn’t true. I mean, it can’t be, considering how much more Cubs trivia I know.”

I looked at him and a grin slowly spread across his face. Then I burst out laughing, which hurt my sore cheeks. “Ow,” I said, rubbing my face.

“I’m sorry, Mac. I should have come to you. That’s also why I missed our ambush today. My mom had this job interview, and she needed me to watch my little sister because Victor had to work and she can’t afford our usual babysitter anymore. Speaking of which, what happened? I mean, judging from your face . . .”

“They knew, Vince. They knew about the plan. I got beat up, and the bullies and Joe all got trapped in the Shed and baked to a crisp inside that huge tin oven. We were ambushed.”

Vince couldn’t even speak. We sat there for a while just staring at our own sections of the floor.

“Are you guys okay?” Vince finally said.

“What do you think?” I said a little harsher than I’d intended.

“Sorry, Mac, I didn’t mean . . .” Vince started.

“My face hurts, that’s all, and it’s making me edgy. The bullies are fine and I’ll live. Probably.”

I still didn’t feel all that bad for snapping at him, though. I mean, yeah his mom had lost her job and that sucked, but he’d still gotten to avoid the ambush. A fact that still had me feeling a little uneasy, despite believing, deep down, that Vince would never betray me.

“I should have been there!” Vince said.

“If you’d have been there, then you would have just gotten beat up, too. You really think you could have taken them all out on your own? The guy who avoids confrontations like they’re the plague?” I asked.

He didn’t say anything for second and then said, “Yeah. Of course.”

I almost laughed.

“Mac, you know what this means then, right?” he said.

“That we’ve been double-crossed. Again,” I said.

“We have a traitor amongst us,” he said. “It’s like Benedict Arnold all over again.”

“Who?”

“Never mind,” Vince said. “Look, we need to figure out who it is. For Justin to know about this plan . . . it would have to be one of us. Someone actually involved with the plan sold us out. We’ve been had, Mac.”

“You know, they’re all going to think it’s you, Vince. I mean, they just got wasted and you conveniently missed the whole thing just after getting caught stealing money. It looks pretty suspicious.”

Vince’s face turned red and he looked away.

We both sat in silence as I started pacing my room.

“This is just like Pearl Harbor. If only we’d listened to the warnings!” Vince said.

“What? Pearl Harbor? Vince, stop talking like a freaking historian and come up with an actual idea that will help us!” Vince had never in my life annoyed me so much.

“Sorry, Mac, I’m trying,” he said.

“Whatever,” I said.

We sat uncomfortably in an awkward silence for a while, as if we were both wearing itchy wool bodysuits in one-hundred-degree weather. I didn’t feel like I really had anything more I wanted to say to Vince right then, but then I remembered what kind of mess he had to go home to and I decided to send him off feeling a little better.

“Okay, Mr. Chicago Cub, here’s a real test for you: Who was the first Cub to win a Cy Young?” I said, tossing him a floater.

“Fergie Jenkins,” Vince said. After a pause he added, “I’m sorry, Mac.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” I said.

He nodded and left.

• • •

“Someone snitched,” I said calmly. “We’ve been two-timed. Backstabbed. Double-crossed. Ratted out. Sold up the river. We’re not moving forward until we find out who it is.”

We were all sitting in the East Wing boys’ bathroom: Fred, Joe, Vince, the three bullies, and I. It was Wednesday, the day after the ambush. I had just finished explaining to Fred what had happened to our plan, how it had been turned upside down.

“But who?” Fred nearly screeched.

A silence followed as we all looked at one another. Nobody flinched. It seemed like nobody breathed. It was kind of like a seven-way staring contest. I looked at Great White the most. He looked really angry. He was staring at Vince. Nubby was also glaring at Vince. In fact,
everybody
seemed to be staring at Vince.

I myself was feeling pretty conflicted about Vince. Up to now most of the evidence did seem to point at him. And while I remained convinced he’d never do something like this to me, if you’d told me two days ago that he would steal money from me, I’d have slapped you in the face with a spiral-bound notebook and called you a dirty liar. So
anything
was possible.

“Look,” I said, breaking the silence, “we can’t just sit here accusing each other. I need some time to think, so let’s just plan on meeting here again tomorrow at morning recess, okay?”

Everybody was pretty quiet. Finally Nubby said, “Okay.”

“Just use your day off to relax, all right?” I said to everybody.

With that, the three bullies left the bathroom. I asked Joe, Vince, and Fred to stay for a moment.

“I want to call a private meeting just for us,” I said to them, “but it’s not safe here. We’re already going to my house right after school to help my dad clean off the graffiti, so we’ll hold our meeting after we’re done.”

“I just need to call my mom and let her know that I’ll be home a little later than usual,” Fred said.

Fred had been there the day I told Joe and Vince about the graffiti and my dad’s offer. Fred insisted that he be allowed to help. He blamed himself for the graffiti, so he felt he owed it to me to help clean it off. And, well, it kind of
was
his fault.

“Let’s close the office for the rest of the day. I’ll see you guys after school,” I said.

For the first time in my life I was really happy to be going to class. Schoolwork just seemed so simple and easy compared to the mess I was in with the business. I watched the other kids working. They had the easy life. No money or business worries. No Staples. If they only knew how good they had it, they wouldn’t complain so much about having homework and lame assignments and everything else like that.

At lunch that day it was time to put my own private plan into action. I picked my way through the different groups and cliques of kids, working my way across the north baseball field and over to the little Dumpster on the far side of the school parking lot. It’s a pretty private place, and kids are not usually allowed back there, but like I said before about the recess supervisor: She doesn’t like walking much.

I found my target sitting against the Dumpster reading a book. Just where I knew he’d be. Tyrell Alishouse, über–spy extraordinaire, looked up at me.

“Oh hey, Mac,” he said.

I nodded at him and said, “Hey.”

Whenever sleuthing or sneaking had to be done, Tyrell is my guy. Ever since his brilliant exposure of the Graffiti Ninja, he has been my number one spy. And he loves spying on people, so he’s always willing to help. Honestly, I should have gone to him sooner. Maybe I could have avoided this mess. But his services are expensive and I just didn’t think it was necessary, especially with the way Vince had been acting about our shrinking piles of cash. Now I just couldn’t take any more chances. I needed the truth even if it meant breaking the bank to get it.

“What’s up?” he asked, putting his book aside. It was called
The Spycraft Manual
.

“I need your help. People who I need monitored.”

“Oh really?” he asked with a smile.

I nodded.

“What sort of monitoring?”

“I need you to follow some people and let me know what they’re up to, who they’re spending time with. Basically, I need to know if any of my friends and employees have decided to switch sides.”

“Interesting. That sounds like some pretty extensive monitoring. Possibly dangerous, too. It might cost you,” he said.

“This I know,” I said.

He nodded and looked at the ground. I could tell he was just bursting with excitement. He loved challenges, especially dangerous ones. And this was the biggest I’d sent his way perhaps since the case of the Graffiti Ninja.

“What’s the offer?” he asked, looking up at me.

“I’ll double your usual fee. Half now, half once you get me some hard information.”

Tyrell pretended to ponder the offer for a while. He would accept; he always does.

“Consider it done,” he finally said. “So who exactly am I shadowing this time?”

I sat down next to him, took a deep breath, and began talking.

Chapter 20

O
h, you’re so dead now,” Joe said as he cornered me.

“No, come on. I can’t believe it!” I yelled.

I tried to run, but I was stuck in the corner. There was nowhere to go. I lifted my own weapon, but it was no use. It was empty.

“Good-bye, sucker,” he said, and pulled the trigger of his Uzi.

He had tricked me and I paid for it with my life.

Fred and Vince laughed. Then Joe and I joined in. We were all sitting in my bedroom playing video games, having just finished helping my dad clean off the graffiti. Which had been a lot of work. The spray paint wouldn’t wash off, so we had to repaint over it completely. Now we were just killing some time while my dad ran out to get us a movie and my mom baked us cookies. I wanted to hold the meeting in the basement with the movie going as a cover.

“I’m going to sit this one out,” I said, getting up.

Fred, Joe, and Vince started another round. They were pretty focused on the game so it seemed like a good time to get something from my closet. I went to the back corner and removed the loose wood paneling. I took out the first half of Tyrell’s fee from the Emergency Fund and put the wood panel back.

“Oh, shoot. Fred, you sneaky little punk!” Vince yelled.

I peeked out of the closet and looked at the screen. Fred had just sniped Vince’s guy from the old church tower. Fred always used the sniper strategy. He was pretty good for a third grader.

After they finished their game, I turned off the machine.

“It’s time,” I said.

They reluctantly agreed. None of us wanted to face the truth: There was a snitch among us, and we had to find out who it was.

We all went down to the basement, where my mom had milk, soda, chips, and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies waiting for us. My dad had rented us some action movie to watch. It was a reward for helping him clean off the house. He also gave each of my friends five bucks.

“Oh, you guys are so cute,” my mom squealed as we came down the stairs to the basement.

“Mom!” I said.

“Oh, Christian, relax. I just think it’s great that you’re having Fred over. I spoke to his mom earlier and she is just thrilled that he found some new friends. You boys enjoy your movie.”

“Mom! Please?” She could be so embarrassing.

“Okay, okay,” she said, heading for the stairs.

“Thank you for the cookies, Mrs. Barrett,” Vince said.

She smiled at him and went upstairs.

“Dude, your mom is cool. My mom would never make me and my friends cookies,” Joe said.

“Yeah, I know, whatever,” I said.

“Just wait till you’re fourteen, like me. Then she’ll be nagging you all the time to clean your room or take out the trash or not to slouch or chew with your mouth open or to say thank you and ‘don’t be disrespectful’ and ‘call me and let me know where you’re going’ and blah, blah, blah, blah. Dude, you’ll miss the days when she makes you snacks and stuff.” Joe bit into one of the cookies.

“Okay, okay, let’s just get down to business,” I said, turning on the TV.

I hit Play and turned up the volume. The movie had lots of explosions and guys rolling around shooting huge guns and lots of slow-motion shots of bullets zooming around. It looked pretty good. But we weren’t there to watch it.

“Okay, the reason I wanted to hold this meeting is because we need to figure out who the rat is.”

We all brainstormed for a while and tossed around name after name. We didn’t really get anywhere, especially since Joe and Vince were afraid to accuse each other since they were both sitting right there. But it didn’t matter to me; this meeting was just a cover to distract everybody while Tyrell did his thing.

“Now then, I guess for the time being we should just lay low, let things cool off before we make our next move.” It had been a half hour of pointless speculation.

They all nodded whether they agreed or not, and either way I didn’t care.

I felt really bad lying to them all. It wasn’t like me. But I just needed some time to execute my own plan, to let Tyrell do what he does best. I needed to get to the bottom of this, and I didn’t know who to trust anymore.

After our discussion we all settled in and tried to watch the movie and have some fun. My face was starting to throb again, but I didn’t want to ask my mom for more Tylenol because then she would bother us. So I just ate some cookies and tried to distract myself with the explosions and whatnot.

Toward the end of the movie I saw Fred look down at his watch. He jumped up.

“Oh man! I gotta go now. My mom said she’d pick me up at seven and it’s seven oh five. See you guys later.”

“Yeah, I better go, too,” Joe said. “I told my friend David that I would hang out with him tonight. I’ve been so busy lately that we haven’t hung out much.”

“All right, see you tomorrow at morning recess,” I said.

Vince nodded good-bye and then Joe left. I sometimes forgot that Joe just worked for me. We weren’t his best friends or anything.

So then it was just Vince and I. We switched it to the Cubs play-off game at 7:15. The best moment of the game was when the Cubs executed a perfect suicide squeeze play. Vince jumped up and yelled and screamed like they’d just won the World Series. He loved the suicide squeeze. If you let him, he would ramble on for hours about how amazing and beautiful it was to watch one perfectly executed.

“That was the best; did you see that bunt?” Vince asked as he sat back down.

“Yeah, that was a good one,” I said. “I was just thinking about how amazing it’d be to be at Wrigley to see the Cubs pull off a squeeze in a World Series game.”

Vince shuddered and his smile disappeared.

“It’s almost cruel to hope for something so amazing. I’m so excited for the Cubs trip right now it’s like I’m in a reverse coma—a constant state of hyperactivity. Or as my grandma might say, ‘Don’t wash the cat until the raccoon eats his glue stick.’”

I just shook my head at him. I didn’t really get the impression that he
was
all that excited. Sure, he’d been acting extra cheery all night, but it was like he was just pretending that I hadn’t caught him stealing money and lying to me.

“Anyways, I just thought of a good one: Who was the first manager to win the World Series for the Cubs?” Vince asked.

“Come on, Vince. Don’t you remember that I’m obsessed with Cubs World Series trivia? It was Frank Chance, and they beat the Detroit Tigers. And I’ll even go ahead and say that their final record was one hundred seven wins, forty-five losses and that you should try a little harder next time,” I said.

“Careful what you ask for, Mac,” Vince said with a cheesy smile.

“Okay, whatever,” I said.

We watched the game in silence for a few minutes.

“Do you think it’s Great White?” Vince asked suddenly.

“I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see, I guess. If it is him, he’ll slip up eventually.”

I was careful not to sound too complacent. I still felt bad about keeping my Tyrell plan from him, but that’s what this had come to.

After the game we watched Cartoon Network for a little bit. Some show was on about a box of French fries, a meatball, and a milk shake who all talked and fought crime. We didn’t talk much, which wasn’t like us at all.

“I think I’d better go,” Vince said after the show.

“Oh okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then, right?” I said.

“Sure.”

He headed upstairs and I heard the front door open and close a few moments later. After he left, I realized something that bothered me so badly, I barely slept that night. Together that night we’d watched the Cubs win a play-off game to take a commanding 2–0 lead over the Phillies in the NLCS, but it had felt more like we were watching a funeral. The Cubs almost never made the play-offs. This was the first time they’d made it this far in our lives. And usually when we watched even a regular-season Cubs game together, there was yelling and shouting and cursing and then we’d both do a really horrible job singing “Go Cubs Go” with the crowd on TV when they won. But that night, other than after the suicide squeeze the Cubs had pulled off early in the game, we’d basically just sat there and watched like zombies. It became very clear to me right then that there was a whole lot more falling apart than just our business.

The first sign that something was seriously wrong the next day was that Vince didn’t come to school. I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but I knew it probably wasn’t good. And as much as I wished I was wrong about that, what unfolded the rest of the day proved me to be more right than I’d ever wanted to be before.

It started during morning recess. I was sitting in my office with my face in my hands trying to figure out just where everything had gone wrong. How had I gotten myself mixed up in this mess?

Eventually I looked up.

“Holy . . . ! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” I yelled.

“Sorry, Mac,” Tyrell said.

He was seated across from me in my office. The kid is amazing. I had no idea how he got inside the office and into the chair without Joe, Fred, or me noticing. I guess that’s why he’s the best.

“It’s okay. It’s what you do, I guess. So what’s up?”

“I have information for you,” he said.

“Already?”

“I work fast, Mac. You know that.”

I nodded. I guess I did know that. He is a darn fine spy.

“What did you find?”

“Okay, Mac. You’re really not going to like what I found. It’s pretty shocking,” he said.

I nodded and motioned for him to continue. What could be more shocking at this point than finding out you have a mole on the inside selling you out and that your best friend has been stealing money?

“Well, everybody you asked me to monitor has checked out so far with no suspicious activity or unusual affiliations. Except for one person.”

I had a bad feeling about this. I had really expected him to say Joe. Or maybe that’s just what I wanted him to say. Not that I would’ve liked hearing that, but Joe was the only one who made sense anymore.

“Who is it?” I asked warily.

“It’s Vince,” he said. My heart started thumping against the inside of my rib cage as if it was trying to bust out of jail. “Now, it might not mean anything, but I caught him conversing with a person of interest.”

“Who?” I asked.

Tyrell started digging in his bag while shaking his head. “I’m not really sure. I’ve got my theories, but I’ve never actually seen this kid before. Why don’t you take a look first?” He took a little video camera the size of a deck of cards from his canvas messenger bag and laid it on my desk. “Hit Play.”

“Wow, this is really clear,” I said.

“It’s the
Rear Window
Edition P-Tom that I got for my birthday.”

The video was zoomed in pretty close so it would have been hard to tell exactly where the footage was taking place had I not been there myself at least a thousand times before. It was the playground near Vince’s trailer. It was the very same playground in which Vince and I had first started our business. Now it was pretty rundown. The sandbox was a dirt-and-weed box. Only one seat actually remained on the swing set, and it creaked and croaked like a ten-pack-a-day lunch lady asking you for your lunch card. But the playground was still unmistakable.

I also recognized the kid talking to Vince near the old playground slide right away, despite the baseball hat sitting on top of his shaved head. I would never forget that face for the rest of my life. It was Staples.

The video footage on the little screen showed Vince standing with his back to the rusted slide. Staples stood close to him, and appeared to be the one doing most of the talking. At the end Staples held out what looked to be a roll of cash. Vince looked hesitant, but then finally he reached out and took the money. The last bit showed Staples walking away with a grin on his face and Vince standing at the slide until well after Staples had left. Then Vince stuffed the money into his pocket and walked into his trailer.

“When was this taken?” I asked, my voice coming out cracked and broken like a scratched CD.

“This morning around six forty-five,” Tyrell said.

That would be right around the time Vince would be leaving for school. So had Staples paid him to skip school today? If so, why? Or had the payment been for something else?

“How did it all play out?” I asked.

“Well, he left his trailer that morning and headed for his bike. And that’s when the kid in the baseball hat approached him and pulled him aside toward the slide. They spent the next few minutes talking there. Sorry, Mac, but I couldn’t really get close enough to hear what they said. That’s a pretty open place.”

“That’s okay, Tyrell. You did well,” I said, and slid part of his payment across my desk. He grabbed it, and almost before I could blink, he was gone.

So Staples visits with Vince this morning and then he’s coincidentally gone today? And he doesn’t even bother to call and tell me that Staples approached him? Or maybe he did call me. I couldn’t be sure because I’d already left my house by 6:45 this morning. It could have been nothing, and it certainly didn’t prove anything definite, but it didn’t look very good either. In fact, it looked downright horrible.