Don't Get Caught(79)

Ellie sounds sincere, but I can’t be sure if she really is. She’s that good of an actress. That’s the problem with liars—you never know if what you’re hearing is the truth.

“Come on, Max, admit it. You’ve had more fun this year than you’ve ever had, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Then why end it?” she says. “Who cares how we got started? What matters is what we became. We’re an amazing team. What just happened proves it. And imagine what the five of us can achieve next year…and the fun you and I can have this summer.”

I see it all clearly now—Ellie Wick is the devil.

I stand up and step toward the ladder.

“So let me get this straight,” she says, standing too. “We had an awesome year, and I’m telling you I want us to be together, but you’re turning me down?”

“I can’t trust you.”

It’s a few seconds before Ellie says anything. “Have you told the others yet?”

“No, but they deserve to know.”

“They’ll hate me.”

“Maybe.”

Ellie’s eyes go slowly cold. It’s a disturbing, frightening shift. I swear the temperature drops twenty degrees.

“I can’t just let you ruin my life like that,” she says. “If you go through with it, then you’re my mortal enemy, Maxwell Cobb. Isn’t that what would happen in one of your little heist films? The crew leader kicks someone out and that person comes back for revenge?”

If she’s trying to shrink my balls, she’s succeeded.

“You don’t need to do that,” I say.

“No, I don’t. But think of the fun I can have. Or”—and she puts on a voice that could make cartoon birds flock to her—“you can forget everything and we can rule the school next year as a couple. It’s up to you.”

I understand now this was all a game to her. She’s even used that very word. Was she ever really as tortured by the Chaos Club’s prank on her dad as she said or was that just a convenient excuse to get us to play her game? I’ll probably never know. Heist victims are always left with unanswered questions. But if I’ve learned anything from this, it’s that I have the strength to handle whatever Ellie can throw at me.

“I can’t have a supervillain for a girlfriend,” I say.

“Oh, Max, you don’t know the meaning of supervillain yet.”

I start down the ladder, feeling her eyes on me.

“I can’t wait to hear you try to sell this story to people,” she says. “They’re going to put you in a mental hospital.”

“It doesn’t matter, Ellie. The right people will believe me.”

At the base of the tower, I wipe the rust off my hands.

“This is your last chance, Max,” Ellie says. “Summer fun with me or complete chaos. It’s up to you.”

But there’s no real choice here.

There never was.

Someone else might get scared and give in, but not me. Not anymore. Whatever I’m giving up with Ellie is nothing compared to what I’ve gained. With my crew on my side, nothing can touch me. Besides, every mastermind knows Heist Rule #25: Know when to walk away.

Before starting down the hill, I return Ellie’s smile.

“Game on.”





Acknowledgments


Writing a novel is a lot more collaborative than I ever knew. I’m forever thankful to the following people for their help and support:

First and foremost, thanks to my wonderful, supportive, and brilliant wife, Jen, who started me on this adventure by not-so-subtly convincing me to attend my first writing conference by saying, “Oh, you are going.” She’s not only my biggest champion and best friend, but she also gave me the four most wonderful reasons to exist: Brody, Sam, Charlie, and Murphy. I love you all.

My brother-in-arms John Mantooth deserves a warehouse of craft beer for reading all eight drafts and talking me off the ledge hundreds of times. Early readers Sam W. Anderson, Kim Despins, Daryl Gregory, Josh Penzone, and Kimberly Gabriel (Your turn’s next!) helped get this book out of the trenches with their notes and friendship.

Kerry Sparks is a true badass who gave me the chance no one else would. If you look up literary superagent in the dictionary, there’s a picture of Kerry carrying all her writers on her back while she stands on a pile of bloodied and beaten foes foolish enough to get in her way.

Editor extraordinaire Aubrey Poole had the razor-sharp insight and enthusiasm I needed to make this book as good as it could possibly be. I’m thankful to her and the rest of the Sourcebooks team for their incredible support and hospitality.

Writers Josh Berk, Michael Cook, John Langan, Petra Miller, John Rector, Ian Rogers, Lance Rubin, Brett Savory, Paul Tremblay, Fred Venturini, and Erik Williams probably aren’t aware of how helpful and motivating they’ve been, but hopefully, now they know. Andrew Smith graciously gave me a kick in the ass precisely when I needed it. Thanks to Mac McCaughan of Superchunk for permission to use his lyrics.

My mom and dad let me read and watch whatever I wanted while growing up, which is questionable parenting at best, but forever appreciated. My brothers, Eric, Brent, and Jay, were always better at sports than I was, so this novel is probably just a thinly masked attempt at showing off in the only way I can.