“It’s a little loud in here. Why don’t we step outside?” he said to us.
Vince and I followed him out of the theater. On our way out I saw Hannah sitting in the production booth in the back of the theater. Our eyes locked. I tried to apologize in that one look, but I could see I didn’t have to. She smiled at me, and I smiled back.
Then we were out in the empty hallway. Just me, Vince, and Dr. George. Of course I was terrified. I knew how mad he was; I’d just ruined everything for him. What was he going to do?
He grabbed the back of our necks just then. Not too hard but firm enough to tell us that we’d better let him take us wherever he had in mind.
“This way,” he said.
He led us toward the East Wing. Toward my old office. Along the way no one talked. I was too terrified to say anything, and I think George was probably too angry. I had no idea about Vince, but he always has been pretty bad at any confrontations, except for those that occur between pitcher and batter, so he probably just didn’t even know what to say at all.
We got to the East Wing boys’ bathroom, and Dr. George unlocked the door. Then he held it open and said, “After you.”
We shuffled inside.
That’s when he exploded.
“You little . . .” Well, I’m not going to repeat everything he said, but I’ll just say that his face bulged, and he screamed at us and called us names for several minutes before calming himself enough to have a somewhat normal conversation.
“You ruined everything!” he yelled. “I had this all planned so perfectly, and you screwed it all up. Do you have any idea how many strings I had to pull, how hard it was to get all of this set up? To stage all of this to where it could look like I was doing such a great job cleaning up the school and to set you up to rig the SMARTs? And now it’s all ruined.
“Mark my words, you will pay for this. They don’t call me Dr. Discipline over in Harrison School District for nothing. At that high school I got no fewer than ten kids sent to juvie! And that’s where you’re both going. I have my connections in there, too. So just you wait. Your life will be a living hell. And you’ll deserve it.”
Vince and I looked at each other. We didn’t know what to say. I knew there was nothing I could do to stop him. And besides, he was probably right: I probably did deserve it for all of the years my business had benefited from other kids’ misfortunes.
“Well? What do you have to say now, Mac? What about you, Vincent? Huh?”
Vince cleared his throat. “Well, sir, I’d like to quote my grandma if I can?”
“What?” Dr. George sneered.
I smirked. Even in this dire situation I couldn’t help it. There was no one I’d rather meet this with head-on than this guy. Vince was the best. It was that simple.
“Well, if she were here right now, she’d probably say, ‘Be careful what you wish for because for every wish there’s a demented magical unicorn out there looking to impale someone right in their face.’”
“What!” Dr. George shouted. “That’s sick, you little . . .”
It was pretty sick, I had to admit. But she really did say that. I’d heard her say it once at a funeral for one of her friends, right when the pastor was going through a prayer. It was pretty funny in a totally sick way, of course.
Anyway, Dr. George didn’t get to finish his sentence because just then the door burst open and Mr. Simpson, Mr. Dickerson, the other two Suits, Mr. Kjelson, and several parents all rushed inside. From the looks on their faces I could tell something was up.
“Dr. George,” Mr. Simpson said. “Perhaps you should step outside with us?”
“Why? What’s going on?” he demanded.
Mr. Kjelson pointed up in the corner where our camera was still mounted. “Everything that has been happening in here just played on the big screen in the Olson Olson Theatre.”
“What? No, that’s not possible. The recorders aren’t even in here!” Dr. George yelled.
“It’s a wireless signal,” Hannah said from the doorway. “Anything can pick it up; it doesn’t just have to be those DVRs.”
I hadn’t noticed her arrival until just then. I made a mental note that I would need to thank her in a big way, since she had just saved us, basically.
Dr. George shook his head.
You had to love that. In the end he was taken down by his own old-man ignorance of technology. Okay, that probably isn’t fair to say, but he deserves it. What I didn’t know was how Hannah had known to play the signal in the theater and how anyone had known we were in here.
“Let’s go, Dr. George,” Mr. Simpson said again calmly. “I think it’s best if we all step outside.”
For the first time all night nobody spoke. Dr. George stood there with his ancient word hole hanging wide open, shaking his head from side to side as if he was trying to tell people that that wasn’t really him. Then he rubbed his eyes and shuffled outside with Dickerson and the three Suits. The parents followed.
I found my mom and dad as we all left the building, and my mom hugged Vince and me. I don’t think they had forgotten how angry they were with me; they were probably just happy that it was all over with. I didn’t say much. It had been a tiring night, and I was sure the next day would be worse whenever we found out what our punishment would be.
Then when we got to the car, I saw someone wave at me from behind the portables. I wasn’t sure who it was exactly, but I had an idea.
“Hey, Vince and I rode our bikes here, so shouldn’t we ride them back?”
My dad pondered this. “Yeah, I suppose. But come right home.”
I nodded. Then they got into the car and drove off. I motioned for Vince to follow me over to the portables.
Chapter 27
Tuesday—The Portables
Around back we ran into the person who had waved at me.
“So you tapped into the camera’s wireless signal and played that in the theater?”
Hannah grinned at me. “Yeah. AV club came in handy after all, huh? Anyway, it’s gonna cost you.”
I laughed even though I knew she probably wasn’t kidding. I took out some money and handed it to her. I always kept a decent amount of money on me—it was good business practice. But I supposed that was something I was going to have to get over now that my business was finished.
“I do owe you,” I said. “How did you know to do that?”
“I saw you guys heading off toward the bathroom with Dr. George and knew something must be up. So I ran back to the theater and found the wireless signal coming off those cameras. Doing the rest was easy; it’s what I do,” she said as she took off her mittens to put the money into her pocket.
“Well, thanks,” I said.
“So I guess your business is kaput?” Hannah asked.
I nodded.
“Well, hey, I think it’s cool what you both did to save the school. I mean, it was your fault in the first place, but I think it was a really great thing to give up your business for the rest of us.”
“Thanks,” I said again, trying not to blush. It was a pretty cold night, so likely my cheeks were too red for her to tell anyway.
“So now what?” Vince said.
“Now I just want to thank you guys for buying me a new iPhone,” Hannah said, and then laughed while patting the money she’d just put in her pocket.
“Me. You mean, thank me, right?” I said. “After all, it was my money.”
“Whatever, Mac. This business was just as much mine as it was yours! We both bought her a new phone!” Vince said.
“Vince, come on, admit it already. You’re, like, obsessed with Hannah or something. It’s kind of pathetic.”
“Me?” he screeched. I’d never seen Vince this animated before. “You’re the one who has been, like, going to the ends of the Earth to keep me away from her because you know she likes me better. I make her laugh more and you’re jealous. You’re jealous because you get all, like, nervous and stupid around her but I make her laugh!”
“Jerk!” I yelled. “That’s not . . .”
I stopped when I realized that Hannah was hysterical. She was basically on the ground rolling in the almost frozen dirt, she was laughing so hard. Vince and I both stopped and watched as she straightened herself and wiped at her eyes. She was actually crying.
“Did you guys forget I was standing right here?” she said as the echoes of her last laughs died away.
Vince and I looked at each other. Neither of us spoke.
“Seriously, you guys are so hilariously cute. I’d love to stand around all night and watch you go at it like a couple of bickering old ladies, but I think I’d end up dying from laughing so much. Honestly, though, you guys are adorable, but you need to stop fighting. You’ll find yourselves a couple of cute girls someday, I promise. Anyways, I gotta go. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”
Hannah waved and then walked away. Vince and I stood side by side and watched her go. I wondered if he felt as stupid as I did. I was afraid to even look at him.
We stood there awhile not saying anything, not even looking at each other.
Then I broke the awkward silence. “So who was the last Cub pitcher to win twenty games?”
He didn’t say anything. He just glared at me, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Then finally after what seemed like forever, he spoke.
“That would be the ‘great’ slider specialist Jon Leiber in 2001, who went twenty and six.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. It was so weird. I’d been kind of mad at him just a few minutes before, but suddenly it was all gone.
“I thought I’d stumped you,” I said, turning to face him.
He grinned and said, “You? Stump me? Ha-ha. Ha-ha-ha-ha!”
“Whatever. It could happen,” I said as we started walking toward where we’d stashed our bikes earlier.
“Yeah, maybe if I let my grandma perform brain surgery on me. Maybe then, but I still doubt it.”
I nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I think your Grandma is crazy like crazy genius or whatever. She’d probably upgrade your brain to give you telekinetic powers or something. That’s all we’d need: a Vince who can move stuff with his brain.”
“No, I’d probably use my powers to somehow get the Cubs into the World Series.”
I nodded solemnly at this. There was no joking when it came to the Cubs and the World Series. It mattered that much.
“Speaking of,” Vince said, “now that I’ve answered your unbelievably simple Cubs question, I have one that I’ve been saving up for a special occasion. One that you’ll never get right. Not in a million years. Not even if I let my grandma perform surgical upgrades on your brain instead. Not even if I transplanted Joe Blanton’s brain into your head and then injected it with, like, Jayson Stark’s brain cells. Not even if you owned the Cubs. Not even if I told you the answer right after asking the question. It’s that hard. Your brain won’t even be able to comprehend the complex nature of the question and its answer. You wouldn’t even get it right if—”
“Vince,” I said laughing. “I get the point. Just hit me with it already.”
Epilogue
So maybe you’re wondering how everything played out. And well, I’d be lying if I said everything simply continued on as normal. But the great news was that we actually didn’t get expelled. I don’t know how, exactly. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that we were threatened in a bathroom by a school employee, and we had video evidence and witnesses to prove it. But whatever the reason, we were relieved to still be in school.
Still, there was a price to be paid. Vince and I were both declared ineligible to play baseball that year, which stunk, of course. We also each got suspended for two weeks. Forgive me here for being honest, but I didn’t see how in the world they considered suspension a punishment. I mean, basically, Vince and I got ten free days off from school in which we sat around and played video games and talked about the Cubs. It was freaking awesome! Seriously, if that’s what happens when you get caught with a business like mine, then I wished I would have gotten caught years ago.
Except that wasn’t entirely true because we also got a community service project to work on. Turns out, that was a pretty good punishment. Because who likes to walk around all day picking up trash? Sure, we were helping to keep the earth clean and blah, blah, blah, but that still didn’t make it fun. That said, I’d much rather have had to do that for the next eight weekends than to be kicked out of school. Plus, they let Vince and I serve our time together, which was pretty cool, because then we basically just made fun of Joe Blanton and challenged each other with Cubs trivia while picking up garbage all day.
Anyways, after the suspension I bet you’re thinking there was some way that I got my business back, right? Well, nope. I didn’t. My business was finished. I’d outed myself in front of Dickerson; there was no coming back from that. So we shut down the business completely. And that was okay, actually. It was kind of nice to just be a normal kid and only have to worry about going to school and playing video games and watching the Cubs screw up another perfectly good off-season by trading for washed-up old players and signing second-rate garbage instead of the real superstars who were on the free-agent market.
Old Georgie eventually got arrested and charged for something or other. I wasn’t sure what exactly, since I didn’t speak Nerdy Lawyer talk, but I got the impression it was pretty serious. He even got sentenced to some prison time. And the SMARTs were also disbanded as official state tests, since George had helped to create them.
So school went on as usual for everybody else. The plays continued, with Louie-Booey dazzling everybody with his hilarious scripts and giving the kids the freedom to make the plays their own. And our school sports teams continued to dominate. Mr. Kjelson did a great job with our baseball team. They were 6–1 after our first seven games. It was tough to watch them from the stands, but Vince and I were both sure we’d be out there next year as seventh graders.
It took a while to get used to life without my business. After all, I’d had it since I was in second grade.
But just when I thought I was out . . . they pull me back in.
It was a day like any other day. I was walking home from school, starting to appreciate how simple life can be for kids without complicated and powerful businesses in organized crime to run. Vince had had to leave school early to watch his baby sister while his mom was at work, so I was alone. And I heard someone walk up behind me.
“Hey, Christian. I mean, Mac. Look, I need your help.”
I didn’t turn around. I simply said, “I’m sorry. You’re too late. I’m not in that line of work anymore.”
“I think you’ll make an exception for me.”
I suddenly realized how familiar that voice sounded. I’d always sworn I’d never forget it. I turned around slowly to see if it really could be true.
It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the bright sun. He was just a silhouette at first, but then he stepped closer and it all came rushing back.
“I need your help, Mac,” Staples said, his smile as wide and as dangerous as it ever was. It still looked like he had more teeth than any human being needed. “Please?”
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Chris Richman for invaluable feedback and always being willing to argue the finer points of Joe Blanton’s astonishing life and career. Thanks to Mom, Dad, Mike, Kayla, Nic, Jes, Schuylar, Ashley, John, Sharon, and all of my family and friends for their continued support. Thanks to Debbie Kovacs and everyone at Walden Media and HarperCollins. Thanks to Kellie Celia for working so hard on my behalf. Thanks to my fantastic editor, Jordan Brown, for always defending Derek Jeter as if he was his own brother even though deep down he knows he’s wrong. Thanks to my agent, Steven Malk, for introducing me to children’s literature, and for taking my panicked 4:00 a.m. phone calls when someone offers me a trade in fantasy baseball and I need advice. Thanks to all of the kids, parents, teachers, librarians, and walruses who
have emailed me—getting those messages is my favorite part about being an author. Also important were my pockets, because they hold stuff for me, and my shoes, because they protect my awesome feet. Thank you to run-on sentences, I need you. Finally, thank you again to my best friend and beautiful wife, Amanda, for always supporting and encouraging me.
About the Author
Chris Rylander’s first book was THE FOURTH STALL. A fan of cheese, dogs, and the Chicago Cubs, he lives in Fargo, North Dakota. Visit him online at www.chrisrylander.com.
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Also by Chris Rylander
The Fourth Stall
Credits
Jacket art © 2012 by Ethen Beavers
Typography by David Coulson
Jacket design by Sarah Hoy
Copyright
Walden Pond Press is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. Walden Pond Press and the skipping stone logo are trademarks and registered trademarks of Walden Media, LLC.
The Fourth Stall Part II
Copyright © 2012 by Chris Rylander
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Rylander, Chris.
The Fourth Stall Part II Page 18
