Don't Get Caught(63)
Stranko straightens in his chair.
“What about them?”
“I think I know what they’re going to do for their end-of-the-year prank. And I think I have a way to catch them.”
“Do you now? Then tell me.”
There’s something in his voice—is it skepticism?—that causes me to stumble a bit.
“Well, I, uh, just know they always pull a prank at the end of the year, and with the Asheville Celebration coming up, I was thinking that would be the perfect time for them to strike.”
“And you’re telling me this why?”
Because you’re going to be out there guarding the grounds if I warn you or not. This way I can control what you do. Otherwise, you’re a wild card, and I can’t have that.
“Because you’re the vice principal, and you’ve been after them for years. I thought you might want to stop them from ruining the celebration.”
Stranko doesn’t blink for a good ten seconds.
“You don’t ever stop, do you, Cobb?”
“Huh?”
“Even after trashing my office, getting arrested, and spending ten days out of school, you’re still playing this game. Let me make it simple for you: your reputation is zero with me. If I had it my way, you’d have been expelled weeks ago.”
“But I really think they’re going to hit the celebration.”
“Right, and I’m betting that next you’ll tell me some idea you have for catching the Chaos Club, maybe even give me a role in your plan. Is that right?”
He wants me to say yes, so I do.
“Uh-huh,” he says, “and then, when the time comes to execute your plan, something happens. Maybe you have me in one place while your friends vandalize a different area or you trick me into busting the wrong people while you attack someplace else. Am I close?”
“No, I—”
“I’ll save you the trouble, Cobb. You can’t fool me. I know who you are and what you are, and if your club comes within a mile of the Asheville Celebration, I will make it my life’s goal to have you in jail. Do you understand?”
“But I—”
“Now get out of here and tell your friends you failed.”
I hotfoot it out the door and head for the bathroom, where I take a newly purchased burner phone from my backpack. Then I send a single text to Stranko’s old phone, which is currently packaged in a bubble-wrapped envelope addressed to Stranko’s home. Accompanying the phone is a letter from a Good Samaritan explaining how she discovered Stranko’s address in the contacts file after finding the phone in a booth at McDonald’s where “two loud and rude teenagers had been sitting.”
The whole thing almost makes me feel bad for the guy.
Almost.
Chapter 21
Ellie calls it Operation Eagle Eye and gives each member of the Water Tower Five code names related to our roles.
Adleta is Sluggo.
Malone is da Vinci.
Wheeler is Captain Calamity.
Ellie is Puma.
And I was hoping for Mongoose, but once Wheeler hears the plan, he renames me Master Baiter.
I blame Sun Tzu for that. If you’re not up on your early-fifth-century BC military strategists, Sun Tzu was a general whose The Art of War is still studied today. In my search for a way to set up the Chaos Club, I ran across this Sun Tzu quote: “Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush him.” Using that idea as the template, I arranged Operation Eagle Eye into three parts: Bait, Wait, and Punish.
Catchy, yeah?
Well, except for the whole Master Baiter thing.
? ? ?
At this point in a heist film, you’d be treated to a planning montage where each crew member works on his or her individual assignment.
You’d see:
Adleta rejoining the lacrosse team after a lecture from his dad and Stranko and suffering through a forced apology to the team.
Malone working long nights in Boyd’s barn, her clothes and body smeared with plaster as she creates her masterpiece.
Ellie producing a short documentary about Zippy, still currently under renovation and scheduled to make its long-awaited return at the upcoming Asheville Celebration.
Wheeler hijacking the school’s sound system to announce during seventh period, “This is Captain Calamity, and I have a message for the Chaos Club. You are put on notice that I, Captain Calamity, will expose your identities at Saturday’s celebration. Your reign of terror ends there. Show up if you dare.”
And finally, me sending Stranko texts he’s come to believe are from a high-ranking member of the Chaos Club about an end-of-the-year prank. How did I trick Stranko into believing this? With a deft hand like any master baiter would.
? ? ?
The last day of school comes way too fast, and with most of my brain power going toward planning our assault on the Chaos Club, I’m going to have to come up with good explanations for my terrifyingly bad performance on my precalc final and the C-I received on my Weird Science project. (Solar Oven S’mores—don’t ask.) But right now, I have more important things on my mind. Because unlike most kids who are attending parties where they’re drinking warm beer from red plastic cups, settling yearlong arguments with either a hug or a fistfight, and writing lies in each other’s yearbooks (“I loved being in the same English class together!”), at 8:30 p.m., I’m hiding in the tree line on the edge of the parking lot with Puma. She’s dressed in black spandex workout pants and a long-sleeved, tight black Under Armour shirt like our first night at the water tower. And yes, it’s as distracting now as it was then.