Don't Get Caught(16)

“What?”

“Puma. That’s my official code name. And you’re Mongoose.”

“I thought I was the Bleeder.”

“That’s for today only. You’re Mongoose from here on out.”

It’s a lot catchier than Not Max. And hell, Ellie can call me Bloody Diarrhea for all I care.

“So, Puma, huh?”

“And don’t you forget it,” Ellie says.

Before I can respond, she goes on her tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek.

“Gotta get to class,” she says and, catlike, is gone.





Chapter 7


“So what can we steal next?”

Ellie’s question, of course.

The five of us are debriefing—something that occurs in every heist film after a mission is complete and everyone is back at headquarters. In this case, headquarters is my basement seven hours following the Stranko Caper, and the debriefing is more of a celebration than a review of the heist.

“Dude, the way we pulled that off, could you imagine the epic pranks we could do if we really were in the Chaos Club? No one could stop us,” Wheeler says.

“Yeah, we’re the ones who should’ve been in the Chaos Club,” I say.

“And Stranko never saw any of it coming,” Malone says. “I watched all of it from the back of the cafeteria, and no one had any idea what was going on. It was amazing. Tim tackled you so hard I thought you were dead.”

“My ribs are still killing me,” I say.

“Sorry,” Adleta says.

“No, I just wish I could’ve seen what happened after you took me out.”

“Yeah, you missed Wheeler gank the phone,” Malone says. “I swear he could be a professional thief, the pickup was so smooth.”

“Because he threw me right into it,” Wheeler says.

“Again, sorry,” Adleta says.

Malone continues, “When Wheeler dropped the phone in my lap, I got so paranoid, I put it up my shirt so no one would see it.”

“That’s so hot,” Wheeler says.

Malone laughs and hands him a small black box the size of a deck of cards, the phone-cloning device he borrowed from a friend on H8box.

“And this thing is great. Dangerous but great. It downloaded everything in about a minute,” Malone says.

“So no problems?” I say.

“No problems.”

“And no problems getting the phone back to the stage?” I ask Wheeler.

“Nope.”

“Aww, I feel like I missed all the fun,” Ellie says.

“No, you were great,” Adleta says. “I watched you crying at your table and really thought you were upset. If you hadn’t pulled that off, the plan wouldn’t have worked.”

“Thanks, but next time I want to do something more dangerous.”

“No problem,” I say. “Adleta can Hulk-smash you, and I’ll get to stay in one piece.”

“Deal,” Ellie says.

Having everyone here has calmed me down. From the moment I got home, I’ve imagined answering the front door and Stranko Tasering me before hauling me off to jail, where real criminals perform unspeakable acts on me. Of course, if Stranko does show up, he’ll have to get in line behind my parents, who have grounded me for a week after talking to Mrs. B. I didn’t argue the punishment and kept quiet throughout the you’ve got to use your head better lecture. The only reason they let me have the others over tonight is that I used the magic words: class project. If you haven’t learned yet, starting a sentence with “I have this big class project…” hypnotizes parents to immediately let you do whatever you ask—break curfew, fire a bazooka, buy a monkey online, you name it.

And a quick word on my parents: If you’re hoping for A Child Called “It”–like abuse or emotional scars that’ll have me seeing a team of psychiatrists through adulthood, you’ll be disappointed. My parents are smart, mostly calm, and—I say this with some guilt—trusting. Dad’s a news producer at Channel 4 (“Your home for hometown news!”), and Mom works for an agency finding jobs for people who don’t have them. The worst thing I can say about them is they’ve raised a revenge-driven teenager who’s secretly plotting to ruin lives. But isn’t everyone doing that?

“Did you guys bring what I asked?” Malone says.

We all fish into our pockets for flash drives while on the couch Malone fires up her laptop. Her wallpaper is a girl in black boots, black-and-white striped tights, and a black dress who’s spray-painting “Riots, Not Diets” on a brick wall. All of us, even Adleta, crowd around her.

“Okay, so there’s good news and bad news,” Malone says. “The bad news is there really wasn’t anything helpful in the phone’s memory. A bunch of sports news apps, all the Angry Birds games—which, weird, right?—and zero photos. He’s completely boring.”

“But we saw him take pictures,” Ellie says.

“And he’s on that phone all the time,” Adleta adds.

“Which leads me to the good news,” Malone says. “There’s nothing on his phone because he stores everything in his cloud, and I downloaded everything in there.”

“Have you looked through it yet?” I ask.