“The note said not to tell anyone.”
Wheeler’s eyes go wide. “Shit, it said that?”
“Oh my gosh,” Ellie says. “You told someone?”
“Totally,” Wheeler says, “I tweeted it and posted a picture of the note on H8box. Everyone probably knows by now.”
Ellie stiffens and blinks like her brain’s rebooting.
“Relax! I’m kidding! Even I’m not that dumb. Come on over and join the party.”
And that moment right there pretty much exemplifies why it’s best to just “sort of” be friends with Dave Wheeler.
Up ahead, Kate Malone, who’s also in our philosophy class, sits on the curb, earbuds in, graffiti-ing her jeans with a black Sharpie. Her current work in progress on her clothes notwithstanding, Kate’s one of the best artists in the school. We’re talking guaranteed-full-ride-to-college good. Oh, and she’s also the only girl in the universe whose boobs I’ve seen.
I’m not joking.
“Hi, Kate,” Ellie says. “Isn’t this exciting?”
Malone pops her earbuds out and drapes them over her shoulders.
“So are you here to ensure we don’t have any fun, Ellie?” Malone says. “Maybe you want to search me, make sure I don’t have any books with swear words in them?”
Oh man.
Remember when I said the school board banned Slaughterhouse-Five? Well, Ellie’s dad is not only the minister at the Baptist church, but he’s also on the school board. When his Hitler-moustache picture appeared on the football scoreboard, Ellie fled the student section in tears. But right now, Ellie somehow keeps her smile and says, “Nope, nothing like that. Tonight’s about joining the Chaos Club.”
“Why do you think that? Because of the card? Did yours say the same as mine?”
Malone stands up, and now I see “Fear of a Female Planet” freshly inked on her jeans. From her back pocket, she pulls a black Chaos Club card with red lettering.
“That looks just like mine,” Ellie says.
“Mine too,” I say.
“Mine three,” Wheeler says.
Simultaneously, all of us hear someone approaching us from behind. We all turn to see who this person is, and— Person isn’t the right word. Goon is more like it.
Tim Adleta is a junior like the rest of us, but to most people, he’s known as Dim. Not that anyone calls him Dim to his face—at least not anyone who wants to avoid being identified by dental records. Adleta has started varsity lacrosse since freshman year, leading the league in scoring every season. He also has a monkey on a bicycle where his brain should be. He lumbers toward us, his knuckles dragging on the asphalt.
“Is this what your card looks like?” Malone says once he joins the circle.
Adleta grunts a response. I’m not exactly sure if there’s a word in there because primate isn’t my second language.
“See, none of our cards say anything about joining the Chaos Club,” Malone says.
“What else could they possibly mean?” Ellie asks.
“I’m not sure, but look at us. Honestly, do we seem like Chaos Club members?”
It’s nice to know someone else believes in Rule #4 too.
“Well, maybe that’s how the Chaos Club’s stayed around for so long—by playing against expectations,” Ellie says.
“Maybe, but the tower’s spotlight is off too. When was the last time that happened?”
I look up into the dark sky. How hadn’t I noticed that?
“So you really think this is a setup?” Wheeler says. “Why would they do that?”
“I didn’t say it’s a setup. I’m just saying it’s weird.”
“Yeah,” I say, the cautious Just Max speaking. “I was thinking it was weird too.”
“So what should we do?” Ellie asks.
“Yeah, what’s your solution, Kate?” Wheeler says, smirking. “Pull off your shirt and take pictures?”
Malone shoves Wheeler so hard and fast he never sees it coming. He stumbles back, his feet hitting the curb, dropping him on his ass. Then Malone’s face is six inches from his.
“Apologize.”
Wheeler puts both hands up.
“I said apologize,” Malone growls.
“Yeah, Christ, I’m sorry,” Wheeler says.
“So never again, right?”
“Yeah, sure, no problem.”
People think Kate’s gay because she has short hair, ripped arms, a rainbow patch on her backpack, and works at the Asheville Climbing Center, teaching people how to rock climb. But her sexting scandal last year involved pictures she sent to a boy, not a girl, so it’s sort of confusing. After what she just did to Wheeler, I’m sure not going to be the one asking about her sexual orientation, I know that.
She continues glaring at Wheeler for a moment longer before finally backing off. Adleta snorts what may be a laugh. I’d be able to tell if I looked at his face, but gorillas view direct eye contact as a sign of aggression.
“What if we poke around?” I say. “Maybe there are instructions or something. We were invited here for a reason, right?”
I’m surprised when no one scoffs at the suggestion.
“Great idea, Max,” Ellie says. “You come with me.”