“You don’t need to stay here all day, Max. I appreciate the help, but I’d sort of like some time alone with my memories.”
“Okay,” I say, feeling awkward. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
“You have my email, Max. Feel free to use it anytime.”
We shake hands, and Mr. Watson returns to his closet—itself a cluttered mess of memories. I head for the door, and really, this is where the story should end—with the Chaos Club destroyed, Stranko leaving, Watson retiring, and me discovering who I really am. But it’s not the end.
I’m on my way to the door when Watson stops me.
“Max, before you go, there’s one more thing.”
I look back.
“I’ve debated whether or not to tell you this, and I’m still not sure I should, but I’m going to anyway. As ironic as it sounds, I believe in the truth, and I think you need to know it in this case.”
Then Watson tells me, and my world turns upside down.
Chapter 25
My fingers tap nervously on the steering wheel as I drive through the wooded hills, trying not to think about that night in October when I first came here with Ellie. I park the car on the side of the road and hike among the trees toward the clearing. It’s June, and summer’s in full swing, the woods cool and alive with the buzz of a million insects. I slow at the edge of the clearing, then stop completely before stepping out of the trees.
Am I ready for this?
Probably not.
But will I ever be?
I emerge from the trees, and Ellie immediately jumps to her feet on the radar dish, raising both arms over her head, her fists clinched.
“Victory!” she shouts.
She’s wearing cutoff jean shorts and a vintage white Rolling Stones concert T-shirt. She couldn’t look any more beautiful if she tried.
God, this sucks already.
I walk up the hill to the dish and climb the ladder, poking my head through the hole in the mesh floor.
“So the grounding’s over?” she says.
“I’m officially free.”
“Excellent! Did you talk them into letting you out?”
“Something like that.”
“Me too. I mean, after that meeting, my parents were ready to put me in a convent, but then I…”
Ellie’s mouth is moving, but I’m not hearing her. It’s something about her parents lecturing her about sex. Yesterday, after leaving Watson’s room shell-shocked, I went home and told my parents about everything—the pranks, everyone’s involvement, even about my field trip with Boyd to see his archway. Everything. Through all of it, Mom and Dad only made a sound once, giving audible sighs of relief when I told them Ellie and I hadn’t had sex. After that, I probably could have told them I’d decided to drop out of school to become a white supremacist and they’d have been okay with it.
Ellie snaps her fingers in front of my eyes.
“Hello? Max? You look about a thousand miles away. What are you thinking about?”
What I’m thinking about but don’t tell her is this—how could I have been so stupid?
“I went to see Watson yesterday,” I say. “I helped him pack up his classroom.”
“Yeah, I heard he retired. That’s too bad. Was he mad at us?”
“No, in fact, I think he sort of respects us for what we did.”
Ellie smiles proudly. “It is sort of cool, right? We really did make our mark like he wanted us to.”
“We’re sure did that. But what’s funny is that when I was leaving, Watson told me something I didn’t know.”
“What was that?”
On the drive here, I practiced saying the words aloud, but now in the moment, I have a hard getting them out.
“Watson told me the Chaos Club didn’t set us up at the water tower.”
Ellie doesn’t move. It’s exactly how I reacted when I heard the news.
“That’s why we never could figure out why the Chaos Club chose us. Because they didn’t,” I say. “And now that we know Becca and Benz were this year’s members, it makes even less sense. They had no reason to target us. Becca even told me in Stranko’s office they didn’t set us up, and I didn’t believe her.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“That’s why the water tower was never mentioned on their website—because the Chaos Club didn’t have anything to do with it. The Chaos Club goes for the big spectacle, not individual vendettas. I should’ve known it wasn’t them from the start.”
Ellie frowns.
“Why are you talking to me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re angry with me.”
Because I am angry. Pissed even. I look at Ellie, all summery and beautiful, and there’s an instant when I consider not saying anything else and just enjoying the rest of my life. It would definitely be the easier path to choose. But I know too much now to do that. It’s entirely my fault for forgetting Heist Rule #24: Beware the double cross.
“Here’s what I’ve figured out: if the Chaos Club didn’t set us up, that only leaves the four of you. And nothing against the other three, but they don’t have the abilities and drive to pull off everything that’s happened,” I say, “but you do.”
Ellie goes wide-eyed.