“Shut up,” Malone says.
The climb takes only two minutes but feels like an hour by the time the ladder ends at the base of a metal grating no more than four feet wide. If a strong wind blows, a waist-high railing is all that’s there to keep me from hurtling to my death.
“Wow, this is higher than I thought,” Ellie says, looking out over the lights of the town.
Malone, recording everything with her phone, says, “I wish I had my climbing gear. I’d love to rappel off this.”
“What was it Jesus said, Ellie?” Wheeler says. “‘I think I can see my house from here’?”
And me, I want down. And not just down, but to roll in the grass and kiss the earth. Then, as I’m about to wuss out, Ellie’s hand is in mine and she’s leading me along the platform.
“Come on,” she says. “Let’s look for the next clue.”
Her hand is soft and warm, and if the platform gives away right now, I can die a happy man.
“You get to open the next envelope if there is one,” Ellie says. “Or maybe it’ll be like in the movies, and there’ll be a cell phone that rings and—”
My foot kicks something metal, sending it clanking and skittering across the platform before dropping into the night.
From the other side of the tower, Malone says, “What was that?”
I look down at my feet and see four more of what I’ve just booted—spray paint cans.
And in one horrifying moment, I realize why the rungs were sticky when we climbed.
Red paint covers my hands.
Oh shit.
I lean back for a better view of the water tower to see what’s been spray-painted there. The wet paint trails down from certain letters like red teardrops.
Double shit.
Heist Rule #5: When in doubt, run.
But we don’t get that chance.
Suddenly, the water tower lights blaze to life, illuminating the newly painted message for the entire town to see.
Assville High School—
Home of the Golden Showers Both Malone and Wheeler say, “Shit.”
Ellie says, “Wow.”
Adleta says nothing.
And then a voice booms from a bullhorn below, where red-and-blue lights flash in the parking lot.
“This is the police. Come down immediately.”
So much for Don’t get caught.
Chapter 4
Officer Hale identifying himself as the police is a misnomer—sort of like the adult who rolls out the balls for us in gym class calling himself a teacher. It’s accurate only in the most technical sense. Hale’s the school security officer we’re supposed to go to if we’re being bullied or if we want to rat on someone. But he can’t arrest anyone. And he doesn’t have a gun. Which are pretty much the only reasons to become a cop in the first place, right?
Instead of driving us to the police station, Hale parks in front of the school administration office and death marches us into a conference room, where he orders us to give up our home phone numbers.
“And don’t lie to me,” he says. “Because I’ll know.”
So like any budding criminal, I lie. My parents are already going to kill me, so I might as well postpone the execution as long as possible.
Within twenty minutes, the conference room is filled with parents, each of them standing behind their delinquent children. I’m the only unclaimed kid, but Ellie’s parents stand so close to me, I’m hoping they’ll be mistaken for my parental representatives.
From across the table, Wheeler’s mom gives me a small, sad wave. Dave’s the bane of her existence. Her other two sons are fine, upstanding young men who earned full rides to college. Dave, not so much. I once asked him about this, and in a moment of actual maturity, he said, “Who wants to be like everyone else? Sometimes you have to break out and do it your own way.”
Yeah, and sometimes people go too far in trying to do that, Just Max scolds me as we sit awaiting our execution.
Minus a couple weird noises Wheeler seems to be making with his mouth, the room is eerily quiet, so it’s a relief when Mrs. B finally arrives. Mrs. B, or Mrs. Barber in the real world, has been the principal here for twice as long as I’ve been alive. As far as adult authority figures go, Mrs. B’s one of the most tolerable, and I’d be fine suffering through this embarrassment if she were the only administrator here, but no, Stranko’s with her.