Mrs. B stands and says, “If there’s nothing else, we all have an early morning tomorrow.”
We all follow her lead and stand. Boyd, probably worried I’m about to make a break for the door, puts a light hand on my arm. But it’s not necessary. I’m enjoying this. Who’d have thought juvenile delinquency would be such a thrill?
Stranko says, “Tim, you and your dad wait for me in the hall. Got it?”
I imagine Adleta running the stadium steps for the rest of his life, and before I can stop myself, a small laugh escapes my mouth.
“Is something funny, Cobb?” Stranko says. “Maybe you should understand something before you ridicule it. You could have learned a lot from the lacrosse team if you were man enough.”
And had a lobotomy, I think.
Stranko’s still sneering as he’s on his way out with the Adletas when he points to Malone.
“Send me the video you shot tonight. I want it as evidence.”
And here Stranko taps his phone again.
Something then clicks in my brain. Stranko is investigating the Chaos Club.
Just call me Sherlock Cobb.
Ellie passes by with her parents, and for a second, our eyes meet.
“We need a plan,” she whispers.
Before I can respond, her parents have her out the door, probably to exorcise the demon that led her to this blasphemy. Boyd and I follow them and are close to a clean getaway when Mrs. B calls out, “Max? Boyd? Will you two stay a minute, please?”
Boyd mutters, “Ah, hell.”
The rest of the room clears out, and Mrs. B motions for us to sit down beside her at the table.
“Boyd, it seems like just yesterday that we were having meetings in here with your parents about you.”
“I was sort of hoping not to be back, Mrs. Barber. No offense.”
“None taken,” Mrs. B says, smiling. “Work keeping you busy?”
“Plenty.”
“Has Pat Kreider contacted you yet?”
“We’re supposed to have a meeting next week. Thanks for the recommendation.”
Mrs. B waves it away.
“So, Max,” she says, “we’ve never really spoken before, have we?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Well, I’m sorry it has to be under these circumstances, but we might as well make the best of it. I’m sure you know your parents attended school here, but did you know your father once used a coat hanger to break into my car for me when I locked my keys inside?”
It’s not a story I’ve heard, but as far as Dad’s pseudocriminal abilities are concerned, well, he and Boyd are friends for a reason.
“Jump ahead twenty-five years later, and here’s his son, the apple not falling far from the tree,” she says. “Do you think that, like your father, you’ll only use your abilities for good, or will this be the first of many unfortunate visits to my office?”
“I don’t plan on being back.”
“Oh, you’re welcome back, Max. Let’s just hope it’s for something positive next time. And, Boyd, you’ll pass all this on to his parents?”
“Absolutely. Max and I’ll be having a long discussion about this on the way home.”
But the only talking Boyd and I do is when we’re pulling out of the parking lot in his truck, Guns N’ Roses blasting on the radio.
“Thanks for saving my ass,” I say.
“Hell, when I was your age, I used to wish I had someone half as cool as me on my side. It’s nice to do some good for once. You okay?”
“Surprisingly, yeah. More than okay, actually. I just feel stupid.”
“About getting tricked, getting caught, or getting lectured?”
“All of the above.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right. You get used to it though.”
Boyd smokes a cigarette and leaves me alone for the rest of the ride. I put my feet on the dash and close my eyes, smiling to myself as I replay the night. Ten minutes later, we’re parked on the street a few houses down from mine. I thank him again as I climb out.
“This is just between the two of us, right?” I say.
“You got it, man.”
“Thanks, Uncle Boyd.”
“I gotta say, I’m sort of proud of you, doing something dumb like this,” Boyd says. “It’s unexpected. Good for you.”
Which is pretty much why I went in the first place.
I don’t expect Mom and Dad to be sitting on my bed in full war paint, ready to take hatchets to me, but I still breathe a sigh of relief when I reenter the house through my window and see my bedroom is empty. That’s the nice thing about being boring—it gets to where even your parents overlook you.
When I climb into bed, you’d think I’d be able to relax now that the shock of getting caught has passed.
But you’d be wrong.
Relaxing is the last thing on my mind.
Because if I’ve learned anything tonight, it’s that having the guts to not be a nobody—that taking risks and being Not Max—feels good.
No, scratch that.
It feels great.
What doesn’t feel good is knowing someone set me up and I was dumb enough to fall for it.
Just Max may have put up with that, but Not Max sure as hell won’t.
Ellie’s right—we need a plan.
It’s Heist Rule #7: Always get payback.
Chapter 5