Don't Get Caught(48)

“You don’t know that.”

“No, but I do know I’m not done with Stranko yet.”

“What’s next? Framing him for murder?”

He only answers with raised eyebrows.

I walk back to Navarro’s room, expecting the Secret Service to drop out of the ceiling to waterboard me in the janitor’s closet. The two granola bars and can of Red Bull I downed after second period crash in my stomach like a tidal wave reaching land.

I’d talked myself into being okay with Adleta’s and Malone’s pranks, justifying what they did by believing the lie that their victims deserved the revenge, but Wheeler’s crosses a line I can’t ignore. Potential federal prosecution will do that to a guy.

Back in Navarro’s room, I send a text to all the other members of the Water Tower Five.

Meet in the theater before lunch.

? ? ?

The rest of the crew is already at the front of the stage when I walk in an hour later. I can hear them even from the back of the theater, and they’re making no effort to hide their conversation.

“Oh man,” Adleta’s saying. “Practice is going to suck tonight.”

“Sorry about that,” Wheeler says.

“No, it’s worth it. I only wish we could’ve heard those Secret Service guys grilling him. I hope they did a full body-cavity search.”

“They looked so serious,” Ellie says. “I’ll bet Stranko had to change his boxers afterward.”

“Yeah, I wish I could’ve been a fly on the wall in that meeting,” Malone says.

Wheeler sees me coming and says, “Max is pissed at me though.”

Malone says to me, “You’re worried he’ll get caught?”

“Partially that, yeah.”

“Dude,” Wheeler says, “I told you I was careful. I used Stranko’s computer, and it’s not like the Secret Service can trace his phone. I already told you, the phone’s been deactivated and the battery died a long time ago.”

“And if you do get caught somehow?”

Wheeler puts his hands up in a so what manner.

“I’m a minor. What can they really do?”

I’m no vocabulary wizard, but I think the appropriate word here is naive.

“You said ‘partially,’” Malone says. “What else are you mad about?”

Wheeler says, “Yeah, why did you summon us here, King Max?”

They’re all waiting for my answer, and I’m worried they’re ready to revolt. I need to tread lightly. Because the thing is, I still want to take down the Chaos Club, and to do that, I need their help. At the same time, the pranks bother me, but they already know that.

So how do I handle the situation?

By following Heist Rule #19: Lead with confidence and people will follow.

“Look, what we’ve pulled off this year so far has been amazing,” I say. “No, strike that—your pranks have been amazing. I haven’t even pulled mine yet. So I can’t really sit here and give you crap for who your pranks are against, especially since they’re all damn impressive.”

Everyone seems to straighten a little at this.

“At this point though, I think we need to rethink our strategy. Nothing we’ve done has helped us expose the Chaos Club. And my locker still smells like a bakery. So I don’t think more pranks are going to do anything.”

“What’s the plan then?” Wheeler asks.

“Give me a few days to think that over,” I say. “But no more pranks for now, okay?”

This is the moment it could all go to hell. I’ve basically just given an order. In the movies, the heist crew leader is always dealing with adults, not teenagers. And it’s not like there was ever a vote making me the group Leader with a capital L. The four all stare at me, and I brace myself for the assault of laughter that’s about to begin.

Then Ellie says, “Okay.”

Adleta says, “Cool.”

And Wheeler says, “Whatever you say, boss.”

It takes longer than I’m comfortable with, but Malone finally says, “Got it.”

And just like that, I’m a freaking genius.

“Wait a second,” Wheeler says. “Is this all a setup so you don’t have to pull a prank?”

“No, that wouldn’t be a fair. You did your prank. I’ll do mine.”

“Promise?” Malone says.

“Promise.”

? ? ?

February hits a week later, and let’s be honest, February sucks. It’s freezing cold, perpetually dark, and everyone walks around like their brains have gone cold and dark too. February defenders—of which there can’t be many—argue it’s not the worst month because it’s so short. But if your most redeeming quality is that you’re not around very long, you might as well not be around at all. And don’t get me started on that stupid spelling. Eliminate that dumb R and maybe we can talk.

Maybe it’s because of February’s high suck factor, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out how to continue the investigation into the Chaos Club. I suppose we could go with Adleta’s initial idea of beating his way through the entire student body until someone confesses, but that’s probably our last resort. The others have even stopped asking me what we’re going to do. Ellie pushed the hardest, asking on a daily basis, and then eventually, even she gave up.