Don't Get Caught(39)

“Goldfish too?” Adleta asks.

“From Tremblay’s,” I say.

“I had to go to the PetSmart in Athens.”

“I was all the way over in Bakersfield,” Wheeler says. “We should demand gas money.”

“No sign of Ellie?” I ask.

“Ellie?” Adleta says. “My text was from Kate.”

“I got one from both of them, telling me to move my ass,” Wheeler says.

The window blind suddenly goes up, and standing there are both Ellie and Malone, dressed all in black and wearing ski caps. Malone opens the window, and Ellie leans out, saying, “Come on, there’s not a lot of time.”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“I’ll explain later. Hurry.”

We begin handing bag after bag of goldfish through the window to Ellie and Malone. With each bag we pass through, the girls disappear into the dark art room. I can’t see where they’re going, but I can hear water running inside. After I hand Ellie my final bag, she starts to close the window.

“Wait a minute,” I say. “At least give us some clue.”

Ellie and Kate break into grins, and Malone says, “Operation Aquatic Art is under way.”





Chapter 14


I have to wait until morning to see the final product. I show up to school early, but even then I have to fight my way through dozens of students already packed into Mrs. Roberts’s art room, where everyone is staring at the ten-foot-tall glass display case used to show off award-winning art. But it’s not the art that has their attention—it’s the six hundred goldfish swimming among the pottery and now-blurry charcoal drawings. Hanging from a paper clip chain attached to the case is one of Malone’s Chaos Club cards.

Both Malone and Ellie stand on chairs in the back of the room, and on my way, I kick a garden hose connected to the faucet on one of Roberts’s many paint-splattered sinks. I pull up a chair between the girls, both of whom are struggling not to smile.

“How’d you even get in here?” I whisper.

“We hid in the storage room until Mrs. Roberts left,” Malone said. “After that, the room was ours.”

“You guys waited here until we showed up at nine? That’s insane.”

“But worth it, right?”

There’s no denying that. The glass case is a massive pulsing orange cloud. In a day or two, it’ll be murky with fish crap, but for now— “It’s a work of art,” Ellie says.

“Shoot, I had to make up for the hours I spent on Wheeler’s boner diagram,” Malone says. “That whole thing left me with a bad taste in my mouth.”

“That’s what she said,” I say.

“Funny guy.”

When Adleta and Wheeler enter the room, Adleta bulldozes a path for them to the front of the crowd. After seeing what Ellie and Malone have accomplished, they come our way.

Wow, Adleta mouths to the girls.

Wheeler holds a thumbs-up close to his chest.

Soon, all five of us are on chairs, watching the revolving door of students enter and leave the room. Even teachers show up to see the school’s newest aquarium.

“Is that caulking?” Adleta asks.

“Yeah,” says Malone. “I ran strips around the edge of the case and where the doors normally open. I’m not sure how secure it is though. If it gives out—”

“We’ll have a goldfish holocaust,” Wheeler finishes.

“Why didn’t you take the art out first?” I ask. “Didn’t you have a piece in there?”

“Two, actually,” Malone says, “but to create, you must destroy.”

“That’s not the only reason,” Ellie says, and she and Malone start laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Adleta asks.

“Just wait,” Malone says, then looks to the doorway.

Oh no.

It’s Libby. It only takes her three steps into the room before she’s shouting, “Oh my God!” and shoving her way to the display case. When she gets a closer look, she goes full-on hysterical, pounding at the glass so hard we’re all probably seconds away from a goldfish tidal wave. Luckily for all of us, Mrs. Roberts steps out from the crowd and gently guides Libby into the hall. I’m not sure if it’s to calm her down or protect the rest of us from a Libby rampage.

“Oh man,” Malone says. “Libby’s charcoal self-portrait for the Scholastics Competition was in there. That’s a shame. And she was sure to get a Gold Key for it too. Maybe even a scholarship.”

“Wow, bummer,” Ellie deadpans.

Then they both start giggling, trying—and failing—to control their volume.

Wheeler and Adleta join in too, but I don’t. I can’t. I won’t. Of course, like an idiot, I say, “Man, that has to suck if you’re Libby.”

Malone’s eyes darken. “Are you purposely trying to sound like an * or are you actually showing sympathy for Libby Heckman?”

“No, but—”

“Good, because I’d hate to think you feel sorry for her. That would mean you’ve forgotten what she put me through last year. And what she did at the pep rally last week. Girls commit suicide over things like that, Max. Maybe some girls you know have actually even considered it.”