Don't Get Caught(33)

Outside my house, I say, “Maybe we should skip the rest of the week, save ourselves the pain of more homecoming torture.”

Wheeler cracks a weak smile and says, “I’ll see you in the morning, man.”

He pulls away, and I’m left wondering: (A) what’s eating him, and (B) if I’d really ever cut school.

I decide (A) I don’t know, and (B) probably not.

Four days later, I’m happy as hell I’m not a school cutter, because if I were, I’d have missed out on what’s easily the most memorable pep rally in Asheville history.





Chapter 12


Friday is the big homecoming game—a guaranteed loss—so class periods are condensed to forty-five minutes, allowing for two hours to celebrate school spirit, which by my calculation is only felt by six percent of the student body. We’re all herded into the gym, where I end up sitting in the top row of the bleachers with Wheeler and Malone. Adleta has some role in the pep rally, but he didn’t go into specifics. And Ellie, I’m not exactly sure where she is. Probably off kissing some guy who isn’t me.

“Any hits on the website?” I ask Wheeler.

He doesn’t answer because he’s staring off across the gym, his eyes unfocused.

“Hey, man. You alive?”

“Yeah, sorry. What’s up?”

I ask about the website again.

He pushes a few buttons on his phone and says, “Ninety-eight hits since we went live. That’ll go up once word gets out. We’ve gotten eight suggestions for future pranks though. We have some seriously screwed-up people in this school.”

“Coming from you, that’s saying something,” Malone says.

“I know, right?”

“What type of suggestions?” I ask.

“Lots of fecal-related pranks,” Wheeler says. “‘Shit in the cafeteria,’ ‘Shit in a library book,’ ‘Fill Stranko’s office with cow shit,’ stuff like that.”

“The future is going to be a dark place,” Malone says.

“Like I said,” Wheeler says.

“What about Stranko’s phone?” I ask.

“He’s not calling it anymore, but the cloud’s still active,” Wheeler says. “I told you he wouldn’t change the password. Adults are stupid that way.”

“Has he added anything lately?”

“Nothing worth mentioning, but I can tell he’s accessing it by the Date Modified column.”

“What’s he reading?” Malone asks.

“Mostly old prank reports from the nineties. I have this image of him drunk at his kitchen table in the middle of the night, reading over the files like a detective who can’t let a cold case die.”

“That’s sort of sad,” I say.

“If by sad you mean hilarious, then yeah.”

Ellie’s one of the last students to enter the gym and pauses in the doorway, surveying the junior section. Malone stands and gives her a wave, and soon, Ellie’s plopping down next to me. Next time, remind me to show up last so I can control where I sit.

“Where were you?” Malone asks.

“Talking with Mrs. B,” Ellie says. “I’m now officially on the Celebrate Asheville Committee.”

“So like instead of the Chaos Club, you’re in the Brownnose Club?” Wheeler says.

“No, it’s really kind of a cool idea. The plan is to make the event an all-day thing, with bands and rides and stuff. ‘A celebration of Asheville’ is how Mrs. Barber put it. They’re hoping to make it annual event.”

“When is it?” I say.

“They’re scheduling it for the Saturday after school’s out for the summer. So it’s a long way off.”

“That’s a lot of committee meetings,” Malone says.

“It’s okay. I like that kind of stuff.”

The cheerleaders enter the gym, and Wheeler and Malone start debating whether cheerleaders are demeaning to women. Go ahead and guess which side of that argument Wheeler’s on. Ellie and I sit awkwardly, neither of us talking and fully aware we’re not.

Eventually, Ellie says, “So how long are you going to stay weird around me?”

“What? I’m not being weird around you,” I say in a clearly weird way.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Maxwell Cobb.”

“I don’t—”

“Girls aren’t dumb, Max. You won’t talk to me; you won’t sit by me; you barely even look at me. And I know why, and I want you to stop. We’re friends, and friends don’t act like this toward each other.”

I pick at a piece of lint on my pants. “Okay,” I say. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. I get it. My main goal right now is taking down the Chaos Club. After we take them down, we’ll see.”

My heart hiccups.

“We’ll see? What does that mean?”

“It means what you think it means. Now stop being a stupid boy and act normal.”

Message received loud and clear. Not Max can definitely work with we’ll see.

With the gym finally filled, the pep rally gets started, with Watson’s aide, Jeff Benz, and Chloe Seymour, one of the hottest girls on the planet, playing emcees. They’re trying to get everyone excited, but because they’re reading from a preapproved script, they sound robotic. The seniors show the most enthusiasm, with energy levels decreasing by class until you get to the freshmen, who are so quiet they may be unconscious.