“Excuse me?”
“We’re easy targets,” I repeat. “Adleta’s right. We were stupid. We made it easy for them.”
“How am I an easy target?” Malone says. She’s not holding the paintbrush like a knife, but considering her tone of voice, she might as well be.
“Because of what happened last year with your picture. It made you a victim, so of course you’d want to join the Chaos Club.”
Now Malone’s coming at me, ready to paint me blue, and I back up with my hands out.
“Whoa, hold on,” I say. “We’re all that way. We all have reasons we’d fall for that invite. I went because I don’t have shit going on in my life. Ellie’s in the same boat as you, but with her dad and the book thing.”
“What about him?” Malone says, pointing to Wheeler. “How’s he a target?”
I don’t have to answer because Wheeler does it for me.
“Are you seriously asking that question? An invitation to join a club known for pulling pranks and, by their very name, causing chaos? They could’ve written ‘This is all a setup’ on the card and I still would’ve shown up.”
“Okay, that was dumb of me,” Malone says.
All of us have stopped painting now, and from the base of the tower, Stranko shouts up, “Get back to work!”
“Asshole,” Wheeler says.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Adleta says. “So what about me? How am I a target?”
Actually, the answer to Adleta’s question is simple. But answering him is hard. No one wants to die young.
Still, Heist Rule #8 says, Recruit a strong crew, and no one is stronger than Adleta. Literally.
“People have been talking about you behind your back ever since you screwed up in the tournament game last year,” I say, then brace myself. If death comes, I hope it’s quick and painless.
But Adleta doesn’t murder me.
At least not yet.
“What do people say?” he asks.
Wheeler says, “That you have anger-management issues that would make the Hulk jealous.”
“Is that so?”
“Sorry, dude. It’s the truth.”
Last year during the state lacrosse regional semifinals, Adleta, doing his best impersonation of his father, screamed at a ref and got thrown out of the game. The team was already playing shorthanded, and losing him sealed their fate. I didn’t see the game, but supposedly, his dad had to be restrained by security from murdering the ref, then Tim.
“Why does getting thrown out of a game make me an easy target?” Adleta says.
“Because when you feel powerless, you’ll do anything to feel better about yourself.”
Thank you, Psychology 101.
“You may be right, but that’s not why I showed up.”
“Then why did you?” Malone asks.
Tim doesn’t answer; instead, he turns his back and resumes painting the tower.
“So let’s say you’re right, Max,” Ellie says. “What if all of us were chosen because we were easy targets. What are we supposed to do about it?”
It’s all been leading up to this. If you’ve never seen Ocean’s Eleven, there’s a scene where Danny Ocean, the group’s mastermind, gets everyone together and pitches the impossible heist of robbing three casinos in one night. I’m no Danny Ocean, but I did watch that scene three times today on my phone in study hall, planning for this moment. Steal from the best—that’s my motto. It’s time for Not Max to step up.
“I think we’re all pissed about what happened to us,” I say. “And we should be. We look like idiots up here, and no one’s going to let us forget about that. But I think the Chaos Club messed up. We’re not the type of people to just roll over and take it. I might have been, but I’m not going to be anymore.”
“Me either,” Adleta says.
“Yep,” Wheeler says.
“I agree,” Ellie says.
“So, revenge?” Malone asks.
“No, not just revenge,” I say. “That’s too shortsighted. I don’t want to just get back at the people who pranked us. Anyone could do that.” I throw in a dramatic pause here—the result of watching way too many movies. “What I want is to nuke the Chaos Club out of existence, to be the ones to end their secret society forever.”
Go big, right?
Ellie claps her hands once.
“Excellent!”
“Abso-freakin’-lutely, dude!” Wheeler says.
Even Adleta’s smiling.
And, of course, Malone’s shaking her head no.
“Nice goal. But like you said, we don’t even know who they are.”
“Right, I have a plan for that. But before I get into it, what I’m thinking could get us in a lot of trouble. If I explain everything and someone wants out, that’s cool.”
“Oh, I like the sound of this,” Ellie says.
Of course she does. It was her whispered “we need a plan” last night that really made me take this seriously. If getting to spend time with Ellie means having to risk Stranko’s wrath and possible grounding by my parents until I’m eighty, then I’ll take that chance.
“How do we start?” Wheeler says.