Stranko’s jaw almost drops off his skull.
“Second period,” Crybaby says. “This was one of the notes I delivered that period. It was in with the others. She told me she didn’t have Max until fourth, but when that happens, I just say to give it to him when he shows up. Mrs. Hansen said she would.”
I’d easily pay a thousand dollars for a picture of the shock on Stranko’s face during Crybaby’s explanation. His mouth is open, but nothing’s coming out.
“You didn’t find this note the least bit suspicious, Max?” Mrs. B asks.
“Why would I? It’s an official pass. Besides, I don’t want to get in any more trouble.”
“What would be the point of having you bring me the trophy?” Stranko says.
“I have no idea. Maybe you thought I’d feel some sort of pride if I carried the trophy and I’d join the team.”
“Why would I want that?”
“Because you told me the other day how much I could learn from the lacrosse team.”
This time, I’d pay two thousand dollars for a picture of Stranko’s face.
“I swear I didn’t write that note, Mrs. B,” I said.
This is the truth.
“Do you have any idea who did?”
“No.”
And this is a lie.
The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. If all is going according to plan, Malone has uploaded the contents of Stranko’s memory card to her computer and Wheeler has the phone back on stage. That’s a lot of ifs.
“Max,” Mrs. Barber starts, “this is the second time you’ve fallen for something like this. There’s a fine line between being legitimately tricked and simply being gullible. Your decisions, especially this one, are well on the side of being gullible. You have to be more careful.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say.
Stranko may have a stroke right in front of me.
“However, it sounds like you and Mr. Adleta caused quite an unnecessary scene, and that can’t be dismissed as easily. What do you think, Mr. Stranko? Does a day of in-school suspension seem fair?”
Stranko shakes his head.
“I want him gone for a week at least.”
“That may be a bit much,” she says. “What about work crew instead? They wrecked part of the school; they’ll clean part of the school. We’ll make the punishment fit the crime.”
“Fine,” he spits. “But we add Dave Wheeler to that list too.”
“That’s fine. And I’ll have to call your parents about this, Max. They are in town this time, right?”
“Yeah, but here,” I say and pull out a pen. “Can I have one of those Post-its?”
On it, I write Mom’s and Dad’s work numbers. Another day of the school calling the unmanned phone in the church nursery is just asking for trouble.
“You can get them at those numbers. They’re usually not home until late.”
“Thank you, Max,” Mrs. B says. “You both can go. Thanks for your help, Ellie.”
“No problem, Mrs. Barber.”
We walk out of the office and into the hall, and it’s only when we’re around the corner that the both of us break into hysterics.
Step Four: the Getaway. Complete.
“The Ocean’s Eleven team couldn’t have done it any smoother,” Ellie says.
“You were quite the actress, Crybaby,” I tell her.
“No, Crybaby was a one-timer. Call me Puma.”
“What?”
“Puma. That’s my official code name. And you’re Mongoose.”
“I thought I was the Bleeder.”
“That’s for today only. You’re Mongoose from here on out.”
It’s a lot catchier than Not Max. And hell, Ellie can call me Bloody Diarrhea for all I care.
“So, Puma, huh?”
“And don’t you forget it,” Ellie says.
Before I can respond, she goes on her tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek.
“Gotta get to class,” she says and, catlike, is gone.
Chapter 7
“So what can we steal next?”
Ellie’s question, of course.
The five of us are debriefing—something that occurs in every heist film after a mission is complete and everyone is back at headquarters. In this case, headquarters is my basement seven hours following the Stranko Caper, and the debriefing is more of a celebration than a review of the heist.
“Dude, the way we pulled that off, could you imagine the epic pranks we could do if we really were in the Chaos Club? No one could stop us,” Wheeler says.
“Yeah, we’re the ones who should’ve been in the Chaos Club,” I say.
“And Stranko never saw any of it coming,” Malone says. “I watched all of it from the back of the cafeteria, and no one had any idea what was going on. It was amazing. Tim tackled you so hard I thought you were dead.”
“My ribs are still killing me,” I say.
“Sorry,” Adleta says.
“No, I just wish I could’ve seen what happened after you took me out.”
“Yeah, you missed Wheeler gank the phone,” Malone says. “I swear he could be a professional thief, the pickup was so smooth.”
“Because he threw me right into it,” Wheeler says.