Ellie is Puma.
And I was hoping for Mongoose, but once Wheeler hears the plan, he renames me Master Baiter.
I blame Sun Tzu for that. If you’re not up on your early-fifth-century BC military strategists, Sun Tzu was a general whose The Art of War is still studied today. In my search for a way to set up the Chaos Club, I ran across this Sun Tzu quote: “Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush him.” Using that idea as the template, I arranged Operation Eagle Eye into three parts: Bait, Wait, and Punish.
Catchy, yeah?
Well, except for the whole Master Baiter thing.
? ? ?
At this point in a heist film, you’d be treated to a planning montage where each crew member works on his or her individual assignment.
You’d see:
Adleta rejoining the lacrosse team after a lecture from his dad and Stranko and suffering through a forced apology to the team.
Malone working long nights in Boyd’s barn, her clothes and body smeared with plaster as she creates her masterpiece.
Ellie producing a short documentary about Zippy, still currently under renovation and scheduled to make its long-awaited return at the upcoming Asheville Celebration.
Wheeler hijacking the school’s sound system to announce during seventh period, “This is Captain Calamity, and I have a message for the Chaos Club. You are put on notice that I, Captain Calamity, will expose your identities at Saturday’s celebration. Your reign of terror ends there. Show up if you dare.”
And finally, me sending Stranko texts he’s come to believe are from a high-ranking member of the Chaos Club about an end-of-the-year prank. How did I trick Stranko into believing this? With a deft hand like any master baiter would.
? ? ?
The last day of school comes way too fast, and with most of my brain power going toward planning our assault on the Chaos Club, I’m going to have to come up with good explanations for my terrifyingly bad performance on my precalc final and the C-I received on my Weird Science project. (Solar Oven S’mores—don’t ask.) But right now, I have more important things on my mind. Because unlike most kids who are attending parties where they’re drinking warm beer from red plastic cups, settling yearlong arguments with either a hug or a fistfight, and writing lies in each other’s yearbooks (“I loved being in the same English class together!”), at 8:30 p.m., I’m hiding in the tree line on the edge of the parking lot with Puma. She’s dressed in black spandex workout pants and a long-sleeved, tight black Under Armour shirt like our first night at the water tower. And yes, it’s as distracting now as it was then.
Setup for the Asheville Celebration began two days ago, and carnival rides and booths fill the front lawn. Erected on the walkway to the school is a fifteen-foot-high curtained barrier concealing the Zippy statue that arrived this morning. A large stage has been constructed in front of the school’s entrance, with a large white screen behind it that will show Ellie’s documentary tomorrow. And there, sitting in lawn chairs on the stage like the Royal Guard of Assville, are Stranko and Hale.
“What are you smiling about?” I say.
“This,” Ellie says. “All of this is awesome. How often in life are we going to get to do something like this?”
“Probably not very much.”
“But we are now. That’s why I’m smiling. Even if this doesn’t work, this has been an awesome year. I’ve loved having a project for all of us to work on. It almost makes everything that’s happened worth it.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
“Ready?” I say.
“Absolutely.”
I take out my phone.
Me: Where r u???
We watch through the trees as Stranko takes his phone from his pocket.
Stranko: ?
Me: I’m in the tunnel. Hurry up.
Stranko: ?
I’ve texted about the tunnel to Stranko’s phone more than a dozen times in the last week, but whenever he’s asked for more information, I haven’t answered. Now it’s finally time to give him what he wants.
Me: Duh.
And with that, I attach a picture I’ve had waiting for just this moment.
Stranko stands up and shows the text and picture to Hale, who rises to join him. But Stranko shakes his head, and Hale sits back down. No way Stranko’s going to leave the statue unguarded. When he descends the stage stairs and disappears into the building, I send a text to Adleta.
On his way.
Adleta doesn’t reply, but he’s not supposed to. Leading up to this night, Adleta’s job was to keep close tabs on Stranko, and the only way he could do that was to be a part of the team again. It’s only because of his sacrificial apology to Stranko and the team that he knew tonight’s practice schedule and, therefore, Stranko’s whereabouts. It also gave Adleta a reason to be in the school well after hours—something we needed from him.
“I’m sort of bummed I’m going to miss this,” I say.
“We won’t,” Ellie says.