Don't Get Caught(58)

For the next couple minutes, everyone brings me up to speed on what I’ve missed since I’ve been gone. It turns out, not much.

Adleta’s in lacrosse mode full time.

Malone’s time is split working at the climbing center and finishing pieces for an upcoming art show.

Ellie’s busy planning with the Asheville Celebration Committee.

And Wheeler’s been studying, which is a sentence that has never been uttered in the history of the planet.

“Oh, and you missed prom,” Ellie says.

“Did you go?”

“No, none of us went.”

“Then I don’t care that I missed it,” I say.

“I’ll tell you what,” Ellie says to me, “if neither of us has a date next year, we’ll go together. How’s that for a welcome-back present?”

Like I need to answer that.

“So, not to get all serious, but what’s next?” Malone says. “We’re finished with the Chaos Club, right? Because we all really dodged a bullet there.”

“Yeah,” Adleta says. “I mean, my dad’s a big enough jerk. If I got arrested, he’d beat my ass into the next century.”

“I hate to admit it,” Wheeler says, “but I agree. I’m actually doing good in school for once. The last thing I need is to screw that up.”

All opinions I wasn’t expecting. Not that they’re wrong. Giving up on exposing the Chaos Club would be the smart move. It would be the safe move. But it’s also too much a Just Max move.

“I’m not giving up,” I say.

“After what happened? Why would you keep going?” Malone asks. “None of us blame you if you want to quit.”

“Yeah, dude,” Wheeler says. “You were this close to getting expelled.”

“And going to jail,” Adleta says.

“But I didn’t get expelled,” I say. “And I’m not going to let the Chaos Club get away with what they did to me. That’s twice now. I won’t let it happen again.”

There’s a moment of tense silence, and Malone says, “What if we lay low the rest of the year, let things calm down, and start up next year when things aren’t so crazy? That way we’re not quitting; we’re just postponing our plans.”

“Yeah, like when we have a rainout in lacrosse,” Adleta says.

“No,” I say. “Once this year’s over, they’re gone. The Chaos Club will remain, sure, but with different people. Our issue is with this year’s members, not next year’s. And I’m going to make sure there is no Chaos Club next year. I’m going to destroy them.”

Malone squints like I’m somehow out of focus. “I’ve got to admit it, Max, I’m impressed.”

“Yeah, me too,” Adleta says.

“Why?” I say.

“Because you’re acting like none of this is bothering you,” Malone says. “I thought you’d want out. But here you are, and you’re being—God, this is weird to say—cool.”

Does this means I made the right decision? Because I feel like I have. I won’t go all and the moral of the story is with you, but here’s the important part: in the choice between Not Max and Just Max, I choose…neither. I’m not going to define myself by such simple terms any longer. And I’m sure as hell not going to let anyone else do it for me either. My friends, including Boyd, have shown me the consequences of letting that happen. If I’ve learned anything over the past six months, it’s that I’m capable of stunning feats of greatness and amazing moments of stupidity. That’s who I am, and it’s time to embrace that. No one else is going to talk me into redesigning my statue. That means no more separating Just Max and Not Max. From here on out, I’m simply Max Cobb.

Max Cobb, mastermind, to be exact.

(Okay, so maybe I did just go all and the moral of the story is. Sorry.) “Look,” I say, “I told you guys this when we started, that if any of you wanted out, you could quit. But I’m not quitting.”

“Me either,” Ellie says.

Which makes me smile.

“We can get these guys,” I tell everyone. “I’m certain of it.”

“That all sounds good, Max,” Malone says, “but we’re really no closer now to discovering who’s in the Chaos Club than we were six months ago. What makes you so confident you can do that now?”

Which makes me smile even more.

“Because,” I say, “I’ve figured out where and when the Chaos Club is going to strike next.”





Chapter 20


“Hey, you’re Max Cobb, right?” the guy says.

He and his friend are big enough and old enough that they’re probably super-seniors—kids who didn’t have enough credits to graduate on time and are stuck in high school until they either pass their required classes or turn fifty, whichever comes first. It’s three weeks after I’ve returned to school, and the Water Tower Fivers are all at the same table in the cafeteria. I’m done worrying that the Chaos Club will suspect we’re working together. What are they going to do, get me arrested again?

“Yeah,” I tell the guys. “That’s me.”

“Is it true you destroyed Stranko’s office?”