by Kurt Dinan
“What did I say?”
“That there would be dire consequences.”
Ellie squeezes my hand hard and grins.
“Well, consider yourself consequenced.”
“But how did I lose? If anything, I should be the winner. My prank was the best.”
“Subjective but maybe,” Malone says. “Unfortunately, you were disqualified.”
“Why?”
“Because school was out,” Adleta says. “The rule was by the end of school.”
“But I did it that night!”
“Yeah, but we said before school ended,” Wheeler answers. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—semantics, man, they’re a bitch.”
“So that’s what you came up with for my punishment? Fifteen hours of feeling like a complete failure? You guys suck.”
“She did say dire,” Malone says. “You do know that word, right?”
“Yes, smart-ass, I know that word.”
“Just be thankful we didn’t go with Ellie’s first suggestion as a punishment,” Adleta says.
“Which was?”
“Having ‘Prank War Loser’ tattooed on your forehead.”
I look at Ellie, not sure if Malone’s being serious.
“What can I say?” Ellie smiles. “I take competitions seriously.”
“Besides, we couldn’t let you get cocky about everything,” Adleta says.
“Yeah, humility is one of life’s greatest virtues,” Malone adds.
“Like my balls,” Wheeler says.
They’re all laughing now—at my expense, I must add—but it’s hard to be angry when we’ve just pulled off the greatest caper in Asheville history.
“Okay, so now that I’ve suffered, will someone please tell me what happened last night?”
“There’s not much to tell, dude,” Wheeler says. “Benz and Becca came in, did their little prank—which was hilarious even by my high standards—and then split when the cops got close. Once they were gone, I pulled the camera and took off. After that, I just had to add the video file to the end of the documentary like we planned.”
“It all worked perfectly,” Ellie says. “Well, except for Stranko getting out of the tunnel.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Adleta says.
“No, it forced Max to rappel off the tower,” Malone says. “That was worth it.”
“Almost as good as hearing Stranko’s taken a job somewhere else,” Ellie says.
Adleta and Malone simultaneously shout, “What?”
“Yep,” Ellie says. “Stranko quit. He took a job in St. Louis.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Adleta as happy as he is at this moment. He throws both fists into the air like he’s just won the state championship, was named MVP, and was awarded a full ride to Duke all at the same time.
“This isn’t a joke, is it?” he says. “Because if it is—”
“It’s no joke,” I say. “He told everyone in the meeting.”
Adleta pumps his fist again, saying, “The only way this could get better is if my dad were going with him.”
“From what I’ve heard, his job is at a brand-new private school,” Wheeler says. “He’ll be opening a new building, helping establish the athletic program, everything.”
We all slow-turn to Wheeler, and it’s Malone who says what we’re all thinking.
“Wait a second. How do you know about Stranko leaving?”
Wheeler says nothing. Instead, he just gives us the most satisfied smile I’ve ever seen.
“Come on, tell us,” Ellie says.
“Because I, Dave Wheeler, recruited some H8boxers to headhunt Stranko for a principalship in St. Louis, show him around a new building under construction, and interview him twice for the job. They really made him salivate before making the offer.”
A hallelujah choir of “holy shits” and “oh my Gods” ring through the lobby.
“So it’s not a real job?” Adleta says.
“Nope.”
“And Stranko just quit this one?”
“Apparently.”
“But how could he fall for that?” Ellie asks.
“Never underestimate the power of H8box, my dear. We’re all ages, all backgrounds, and all anti-asshole. Stranko never had a chance.”
“How long ago did you set this up?” Adleta says.
“Three months ago, around the time I had the Secret Service show up. I figured if they weren’t going to get rid of him, I’d have to do it myself.”
Wheeler’s prank is evil, massively so. It’s impossible to hide my unease.
“Dude, I told you—I’m an upgrade, not a new install. This is who I am, and I’m cool with that.”
“Well, as far as I’m concerned,” Ellie says, “you win the prank off.”
Wheeler claps his hands.
“So I get the guaranteed yes?”
“Those were the rules,” Ellie says.
“Oh man,” Wheeler says. “This is way too much power for one person.”
“Especially in your case,” Adleta says.
“Nothing sexual,” Malone warns.
“Wait, that wasn’t a rule,” Wheeler says.
“Okay, but you’ll have a hard time performing if you’re in a coma.”
Wheeler holds his hands up. “Calm down,” he says. “I’m not going to ask for anything like that. I have a better request.”
“What is it?” Ellie says.
“That this doesn’t end after today,” Wheeler says. “I want us to keep doing things like this next year. We’re good at it. Maybe we can even figure out a way to make money from it. If not, no big deal. I just want us to continue. I need this in my life. It helps balance out all the boring stuff, like studying.”
When Wheeler finishes, everyone’s smiling.
“Does that work for my guaranteed yes?”
“Yeah,” Adleta says.
“Of course,” I say.
“Yes,” Malone says.
“Game on!” Ellie says. “And I have an additional prize for you.” She reaches into her pockets with both hands, fishing around before pulling out a double thumbs-up.
“Excellent,” Wheeler says. “I’ll cherish this forever.”
“Like my balls,” Ellie says and turns red.
“Wait a second,” I say. “I thought we agreed no outside help on the pranks. Doesn’t that disqualify him?”
“Oh, don’t be such a rule Nazi,” Ellie says and winks.
“Look who it is,” Adleta says, motioning with his head.
Becca and Benz are out of the office, heading for the front door, when Becca sees us. She says something to Benz and the two come over.
“I guess we should say we’re sorry,” Becca says. “I’m just glad none of us really got in trouble.”
“Yeah, except for Max getting suspended and arrested,” Malone says.
“Things got a little out of control,” Benz says.
“Is that supposed to be an apology?”
“It’s the closest any of you are going to get, Kate, so take it or leave it. I was mostly talking to Max anyhow.”
“Why not the rest of us?” Wheeler says.
“Because he’s the one we got suspended,” Benz says and turns to me. “It was nothing personal, you know. We were just protecting the club.”
“You made it personal when you put all of us on the water tower,” I say.
Both Becca and Benz stare at me confused for a second before Becca shakes her head and rolls her eyes.
“You’re hopeless, Max. Have a good life.”
With Benz graduating and Becca moving, I doubt I’ll ever see them again. Like that’s any big loss.
“What was that about?” Malone says.
“They’re just sor
e losers,” Ellie answers. “We won. That’s all that matters. The Water Tower Five prevails!”
• • •
The first weekend of summer break is spent having long talks with my parents—or more like lectures, rehashing the same ground until I’m certain if I hear “You should have told us from the start” one more time, I may have to hammer pencils into my ears.
When Mom and Dad tag team the lectures, they’re on point with:
1. How lucky I am no one else was injured or arrested.
2. How I’ll have to rebuild their trust.
3. How sex is nothing to be taken lightly.
4. How they hope I take the summer to really do some soul searching, which is ironic since that’s what led me to finally toppling the Chaos Club.
But privately, one-on-one, when the other is out of the room, both Mom and Dad tell me they understand why I did it. Both even say the identical thing, “I’m not saying what you did was right, but I understand,” followed immediately by, “but don’t tell your mother/father I said that.”
I’m not officially grounded—it’s not like there’s a proclamation nailed to my bedroom door—but it’s an understood grounding. Asking to go out would only incur another lecture, so I lay low a couple days, sticking around the house and getting adjusted to the laziness of summer, which means sleeping in late and binge watching Leverage with Dad at night.
It’s on Monday evening, two days after the celebration and our complete destruction of the Chaos Club—hold your applause, please—that I receive an email from Mr. Watson.
I’ll be in my room all day tomorrow. Come see me if you get a chance.
Mom and Dad have a private conversation about my request before agreeing to let me go. The next morning, I find Watson in his room, loading books into a box on his desk. The room looks like a tornado hit it, with files and poster boards from old projects covering the floor. Sitting atop most desks are boxes—some empty, some half-filled, some taped and ready to be moved. I join in at a bookshelf, packing up books from his personal library.
“So you got fired?”
“We’ve agreed to early retirement. Easier on this district publicity wise, and it allows me to keep my entire pension. Everyone wins this way.”
He doesn’t sound sad when he says it, only resigned.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“I thought you might be feeling guilty. That’s why I asked you to come. You don’t need to apologize to me, Max. My actions are my responsibility, not yours. In fact, I’m proud of you for doing what I suggested you do at the beginning of the year—you made your mark in the wet cement of the universe. You ended a tradition that’s lasted for almost forty years. How many people can say that?”
“Then why don’t I feel better about it?”
“Because most triumphs are never clean. Have you ever heard of a Pyrrhic victory?”
I shake my head.
“It’s a victory that comes at a great cost. You win, but you pay a great price. For you, it’s the guilt you’re feeling that I’m finished here. That’ll pass though, especially since I assure you none of this is your fault.”
“Well, I’m sorry just the same.”
“I accept your apology, Max, as unnecessary as it is.”
This is likely the last time I’ll ever see Mr. Watson. If that’s the case, I have one question that has been bothering me for months.
“With all the running around that’s happened in this building after hours, how did you work it that the Chaos Club was never caught?”
“That’s a great question, Max. You’re definitely my kind of thinker. Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course.”
“Well, so can I,” Watson says and winks. “Let’s just say that Becca and Benz aren’t the only ones I protected by confessing.”
Great, just what I need—a new mystery to solve.
“What will you do now?” I say.
“Oh, I have friends across the country I plan on visiting for the next couple months. After that, who knows? Now that I’m no longer a teacher, I’ll have to discover a new me.”
We spend the next half hour packing boxes together. Thirty-nine years of teaching in the same classroom can amass a great deal of junk, a whole lifetime really, and Watson’s room is evidence of that. I find reports written in the eighties, pictures of Watson at least twenty years younger and fifty pounds lighter, football programs with yellowed pages, and files of newspaper articles about individual students Watson taught going back to his first year. There’s so much to pack that it seems as if we’re not making any progress, but I’m fine with that.
“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.
“What?” she says.
“You set us up at the water tower.”
Ellie blinks twice before her laughter echoes across the open field.
“Maxwell Cobb, you’re not serious? There are two thousand students in our school. It could have been any one of them.”
