Don't Get Caught(62)

“I’m serious!”

Malone still hasn’t really moved, but now she put her hands out in an oh well way.

“You are such a bitch!” Libby shouts.

No one in the room makes a sound.

Malone sighs and says, “You know, Libby, maybe if you didn’t act this way, you and Troy wouldn’t have the problems you do. Maybe then he wouldn’t have broken up with you and come running to me in the first place.”

There’s a collective inhale as everyone gasps at Malone’s surgically focused insult. Libby stands frozen, gaping, then beautifully and 150 percent awesomely lets out a howler-monkey scream, a sort of primal wail that only our cavemen ancestors could have understood. Tears geyser from her eyes, and she shrieks before sprinting down the aisle and out Watson’s door, her sobs fading the farther she gets down the hall.

For a long moment, no one moves or breathes. Then Tina Manetti, Libby’s friend, raises her hand.

“Can I go check on her?”

“Of course,” Watson says.

Malone says, “I’m sorry for the interruption, Mr. Watson. I didn’t want that to happen here.”

Watson, who has been behind his podium the entire time, says, “You know, in my years of teaching, I’ve learned that sometimes you just have to let things play out. It’s all over, so let’s get back to our discussion.”

Of course, we don’t get squat done the rest of the period. Watson could begin juggling flaming bowling balls and all we’d be able to think about was Libby’s epic destruction. When the bell rings, both Ellie and I rush over to Malone, who doesn’t say anything until we’re in the hall.

“God, that was awful,” Malone says.

“Awful?” I say. “More like amazing.”

“Good for you, Kate,” Ellie says.

“I tried to be nice,” she says.

“What made you do that?” I ask. “Libby’s said stuff like that before.”

Malone stares at me for a good long couple of seconds. “Do you really want to know?”

It’s such an odd thing to ask, I don’t know how to respond. Why would I have asked if I didn’t want an answer?

“You’re the reason,” Malone says.

“I don’t get it.”

Malone frowns like she regrets bringing it up but knows she can’t go back.

“It’s just that watching how you’ve handled yourself these last couple of weeks got me thinking. A lot of people, after getting arrested like that, would’ve done their best to remain invisible the rest of the year. But you didn’t do that. If anything, you’ve put yourself out there even more, like you’re not going to let one thing sink you. I figured if you could do that, I could do it too. So I did. And I feel a whole lot better.”

When Malone finishes, there are tears pooling in her eyes.

“That’s why Tim finally walked off the field the other night,” Ellie says. “You didn’t know that?”

I shake my head, but now I understand his mystery text. The whole thing is so flattering, I’m not sure what the right response is.

“I’m…honored, I guess,” I say.

“Yeah, well, don’t go getting a big head,” Malone says. “If you tell anyone I almost cried in front of you, I’ll kick your ass. I’m not kidding, Max.”

Deal.

? ? ?

Nothing is more motivating than knowing people are watching you and—dare I say it—getting inspired by you. This shocking revelation is what gives me the extra push I need to really focus on a plan to take down the Chaos Club. And as if I need any additional motivation, Ellie stops by my locker this afternoon and whispers, “Think of what you could do with a guaranteed yes, Max. The sky’s the limit.”

I simplify the Chaos Club problem by breaking it down to two questions: 1. What do I want to happen?

2. How do I make that happen?

Then I spend the weekend doing what I enjoy best—watching my favorite caper films, some of them twice, and filling an entire notebook with ideas. Most of the ideas are inventive but unrealistic. Others are realistic but dull. A dozen are incredibly stupid. And one makes me literally jump off my bed and stare down at my notebook, not believing the idea that just came to me.

It’s crazy.

It’s epic.

It’s flat-out brilliant.

And I just happen to have the crew to make it work.

? ? ?

Before I tell the others my plan, I have to fully commit. Because if I think too much about this, Just Max may reappear and talk me into chickening out. So as soon as I get to school on Monday, I head straight for Stranko’s office, where he’s talking with the new lacrosse team captain, Jason Bruno.

“What is it, Cobb?” Stranko says.

“Do you have a minute?”

Stranko tells Bruno they’ll talk before practice. With Adleta’s quitting, the team’s in a death spiral, having lost by four on Saturday to a vastly inferior Athens team. Still, it’s hard to look at Stranko and not remember his sad shock and confusion when Tim walked off the field last week.

“Remember back in September when you said we’re to come to you if we know something?” I say.

Stranko says a long, “Yeah.”

“Well, I know something about the Chaos Club.”