Max Cobb, mastermind, to be exact.
(Okay, so maybe I did just go all and the moral of the story is. Sorry.) “Look,” I say, “I told you guys this when we started, that if any of you wanted out, you could quit. But I’m not quitting.”
“Me either,” Ellie says.
Which makes me smile.
“We can get these guys,” I tell everyone. “I’m certain of it.”
“That all sounds good, Max,” Malone says, “but we’re really no closer now to discovering who’s in the Chaos Club than we were six months ago. What makes you so confident you can do that now?”
Which makes me smile even more.
“Because,” I say, “I’ve figured out where and when the Chaos Club is going to strike next.”
Chapter 20
“Hey, you’re Max Cobb, right?” the guy says.
He and his friend are big enough and old enough that they’re probably super-seniors—kids who didn’t have enough credits to graduate on time and are stuck in high school until they either pass their required classes or turn fifty, whichever comes first. It’s three weeks after I’ve returned to school, and the Water Tower Fivers are all at the same table in the cafeteria. I’m done worrying that the Chaos Club will suspect we’re working together. What are they going to do, get me arrested again?
“Yeah,” I tell the guys. “That’s me.”
“Is it true you destroyed Stranko’s office?”
It’s a question I’ve been asked a lot since returning. And in true Rule #2 fashion—Be cool—I give them my standard reply.
“My lawyer says I can’t talk about it, sorry,” but I add a wink, letting them know what’s really up.
“Cool, man, cool,” the guy says, and both of them hold out fists for me to bump.
“You’re like a rock star,” Wheeler says once they’re gone.
“Yeah, I heard you called Tami Cantor ‘Kami’ on purpose today in Watson’s class,” Adleta says.
“I couldn’t resist,” I say.
“Like I said, a rock star,” Wheeler says.
“Yeah,” Ellie says, “a rock star who’s on permanent lockdown.”
“Thanks for that reminder.”
I’ve become like one of those American hikers who accidentally crosses the border into some third-world country and is imprisoned indefinitely. Whenever I ask Mom or Dad how much longer my incarceration will last, I get the same reply: “We’ll let you know.” Mostly I stay in my room doing homework and watching Adleta’s lacrosse games on the school website.
“Tim’s the real rock star,” I say. “What are you guys? Four and oh?”
“Five and oh,” Adleta says. “Not that I’m paying attention.”
“No way, feel free to brag,” Ellie says. “You’re amazing out there.”
Amazing is probably the right word for it. So far, Adleta leads the league in every offensive category. It’s pretty cool having a friend who’s so completely dominant in something. I mean, yeah, Wheeler’s dominant as a suburban terrorist, but Adleta’s dominant in something that won’t end with him in a supermax prison.
“And now you’re a Vine star too,” Wheeler says.
“What?” Adleta asks.
“You haven’t seen this?” Malone says and opens the app on her phone.
The six-second video, sensitively titled “All Backbone or No Backbone?” shows Adleta standing stone-faced while his dad and Stranko simultaneously yell at him on the sideline.
“I don’t know how you sat through that without going nuclear on them,” Wheeler says.
“By being a master of looking like I’m paying attention when really I’m a million miles away,” Adleta says.
“That’s sad,” Ellie says, patting his arm.
“No, I’m fine.”
But I know Tim better than that now.
“That’s bullshit,” I say. “You shouldn’t put up with that.”
“Oh? And what do you suggest?” Adleta says.
“I don’t know, but if puking on them didn’t get their attention, maybe something else will. You’re crazy to let them get away with that.”
I return to my pizza but can feel Adleta looking at me.
“Does anyone else find it ironic that Max just used the word crazy?” Malone asks.
The rest of the table starts laughing. So we’re back to this again.
“I’m not crazy,” I say. “For the thousandth time, I heard what the girl said. ‘We’re planning something everyone in the town will witness live.’ The town hasn’t had anything like that until now. The Asheville Celebration will bring out everyone. That’s the plan, right, Ellie?”
“That’s how they talk at the planning sessions,” she says.
“And we know the Chaos Club always pulls an end-of-the-year prank,” I say. “What better place than the celebration they know everyone will be at?”
I should probably thank my parents for a lot of forced reflection time during my suspension and also the Chaos Club for breaking Heist Rule #20: Explain things on a need-to-know basis.