Don't Get Caught(18)

“Like that’s an excuse for being a prick,” Wheeler says.

“It’s not, but it explains him maybe.”

Ellie looks up from my laptop which she’s been reading something on and says, “Did you see this other subfolder hidden in Pictures? It has all the school’s information. It has the administrative handbook, security codes, emergency procedures, even an insanely detailed map. This could come in handy.”

“I’ll take a handy,” Wheeler says.

“Again, ewww.”

I look over Ellie’s shoulder at the file she’s talking about. She’s right—it has everything you could want to know about the inner workings of Asheville High School. And to think we didn’t even have to break into an architect’s office to steal the original blueprints. God bless technology.

“Holy shit!” Wheeler says, leaping to his feet a couple minutes later. “You’re not going to believe this one. History, 1989. Oh man.”

“That’s when my parents graduated,” I say.

“Well, wait till you see.”

My fingers fly over the screen until I come across the 1989 folder. The print is so small I have to squint: Friday, May 19th

Senior Picnic Bird Attack

During tug-of-war on the all-purpose field, a whistle sounded and a flock of birds flew out of Johnson's Woods and descended on the picnic, flying everywhere and relieving themselves on everyone.

“Yuck,” Ellie says.

“No, it’s get better,” Wheeler says. “Open the picture.”

Thirty seconds later, all of us are laughing as hard as Wheeler. A blur of birds fills the screen, their white bird shit streaking down the kids’ shirts and matting their hair. Students run around as if caught in the middle of a bombing run. But it’s the guy standing in the middle of the photo with his head shit splattered as he swings at passing birds that make this the single greatest photo in the history of mankind.

Stranko.

“T-shirts,” Wheeler says, borderline hyperventilating. “We need to make T-shirts.”

“And rent a billboard,” Adleta adds.

It’s not a bad idea. What I really want to know though is how they pulled off a prank like that. And I have a good idea who to ask. Uncle Boyd.

“So where do we go from here?” Malone soon asks. “How does this help us find the Chaos Club?”

“Because it’s information. And yeah, the Chaos Club is anonymous. We know that. But what if we make them find us instead?” I say.

“I think they already did that, dude,” Wheeler says.

“That’s not what I mean. What’s cool about the Chaos Club is you never know when they’re going to strike next. That’s probably why they’ve never been caught. They’re usually good for a few pranks a year and always one at the end of the year, but what if they suddenly started doing more?”

“Why would they do that?” Adleta said.

“They wouldn’t.”

“So then what’s your point?”

“The five of us pretend to be the Chaos Club,” Malone says, sitting up. “That’s what you mean, isn’t it? You want us to pull pranks too.”

“That’s the idea.”

“What will pulling pranks help?” Wheeler asks. “The goal is to find out who they are and destroy them, not do their work for them. Why make them even bigger heroes than they already are?”

Adleta gets it now too.

“Oh, you don’t want us to just pull pranks—you want us to pull bad pranks, ones that would make the administration have to act. Is that it?”

“Yeah, I got the idea in Watson’s class the other day when he said sometimes it’s good for symbols to be torn down. I started thinking, what if we hijack the Chaos Club—their ideas, their websites, even their cards—until they finally have to show themselves? They’ve lived in the shadows for almost forty years. There’s no way they’re going to sit by and let us pretend we are the Chaos Club. They’ll be forced to respond too, like the administration. Either way, it’ll make things happen.”

Everyone goes quiet thinking this over. I’ll admit the plan’s not foolproof—the Chaos Club could just ignore us and then we’re putting ourselves at risk for no reason—but it’s not an awful plan either.

“I like it,” Wheeler says. “Destruction for a good cause. I’m in.”

“What sort of pranks do you have in mind?” Adleta asks.

“Whatever gets their attention, especially anything dumb, elaborate, or over the top. The Chaos Club prides itself on quality. I’m sure the five of us can come up with some stupid pranks to draw them out or pranks where the administration would have to act.”

Adleta says, “Count me in.”

“And if we get caught?” Malone asks.

We all just look dumbly at each other.

“I don’t need an answer,” she says. “I’m just trying to see all the angles. But I’m in too.”

“Good,” I say, “because I need you to use your art skills to make imitations of the Chaos Club business cards. Can you do that?”

“That should be easy enough. Design wise, their cards are pretty basic.”

Leaving only one person—Ellie.