Don't Get Caught(57)

We both look at Boyd’s archway for a few seconds without saying anything. A man and woman in business attire walk under it on their way to the front entrance without giving the arch a second glance.

“I don’t get it,” I say. “Why would Mom hate you because of that? You won the contest.”

“Because,” Boyd says lighting a cigarette and pointing it at the building, “that arch is a piece of shit. It’s boring and common and not me. It did nothing for my career except force me to take the long way through town for the rest of my life so I don’t have to see it. And your mom knows it’s terrible too and feels guilty about it. Your dad’s told me as much. Shit, just sitting here looking at it makes me want to go sledgehammer happy. I snuck in when it first went up and removed the placard with my name on it, but everyone in this town still knows it’s mine. I hate that. What’s worse is I can pretend it’s not mine, but I know it is, and I sold myself out for the opportunity.”

“I’m not sure I see how that story relates to my problem.”

“Give it some time. You’ll figure it out.”

“Thanks a lot,” I deadpan.

“Sorry, man,” Boyd says. “But if you’re expecting me to tell you what to do, I’m not going to do that.”

I think about Boyd’s story on the way back to the house and am no closer to an answer than I was when he picked me up. Still, I thank him as I get out of the truck.

“I think you’re wrong though,” I say before closing the door. “Mom’s a lot more practical than you think. Guilt isn’t why she doesn’t like you.”

“You’re probably right,” Boyd says and laughs. “Your dad’s still not allowed back in Vegas.”

Inside the house, the first thing I do is check the phone for messages. No calls. So instead of having to come up with a reasonable answer for why I wasn’t here, I’m free to spend my brain power working out Boyd’s story and which path I’m going to choose.

Three days of headache-inducing thought later, I have my answer.

? ? ?

When I return to school after my ten-day suspension, there’s no hiding in the auditorium or nurse’s office like back in September. Instead, I walk the halls steely eyed, ignoring the whispers of “He’s the one” and “He’s back.” Crowds part for me as if they know to stay out of my way, as if people know the decision I’ve come to thanks to Boyd. The decision? Simple. Quit trying to be the version of Max that will sell and start being the one I actually like.

I’m at my locker before first period, trying to remember my combination, when I hear Ellie say, “There he is!”

I look up to see the other members of the Water Tower Five heading my way. Ellie’s the first one to me, practically laying out a group of freshmen in her rush to hug me. If I had known this would be her reaction, I would’ve gotten arrested years ago.

“Welcome back, dude,” Wheeler says, clapping me on the shoulder.

“Yeah,” Adleta says. “How was the vacation?”

“It sucked.”

“Because you missed us?” Ellie says.

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Good answer!”

“We’re all happy you’re back, Max,” Malone says.

“Yeah, dude, the conquering hero returns,” Wheeler says.

“Hero?”

“Yeah, you’re a legend in this place—the Guy Who Trashed Stranko’s Office. They’ll probably erect a golden statue of you now that you’re back.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Malone says, “He’s not exaggerating as much as you’d think.”

“But I didn’t paint his office. The Chaos Club did.”

“But no one else knows that,” Adleta says. “And don’t correct them either. You’ve got a rep now.”

“Yeah, as a vandal.”

“No,” Wheeler says. “As the badass who trashed the place, then sat waiting for Stranko to show up so he’d know you did it.”

“But that’s not what happened.”

“Who cares? What’s important is that it’s what everyone thinks happened. It’s called controlling the message.”

“Yeah, Dave’s diabolical,” Ellie says, giving Wheeler a shove. “He’s got a promising future running political campaigns.”

“Well, it wasn’t like Stranko was allowed to tell what really happened.”

“Oh, he tried,” Adleta says. “At practice he mentioned it a few times, saying you started crying when he caught you, but the guys really didn’t believe him. I made sure of that.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say.

“No, we did,” Wheeler says. “You didn’t rat us out and you could have to save your ass. That’s huge.”

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Adleta says.

“I knew you wouldn’t tell,” Ellie says. “I just knew it.”

“So are you grounded forever?” Malone asks.

“Pretty much,” I say. “And we’re paying for the damages to the office, but the school decided not to press charges.”

“Excellent,” Wheeler says.