Don't Get Caught(8)

Mrs. B says, “No, Mrs. Wheeler, I don’t think your children are in danger. But this is the first time I can remember students being set up in this manner by the Chaos Club. Am I right, Mr. Stranko?”

Stranko must be some sort of Chaos Club historian because he launches into a summary of their history, quoting pranks from their website. He finishes by saying, “I can assure all of you that we’re doing everything we can to eliminate this group, whoever they are.”

Then he taps the phone clipped to his belt.

Heist Rule #6: Be observant.

Malone’s mom says, “So what all this really means is that no one knows why these kids were targeted, and that there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening again?”

“Ms. Malone, I can assure you these students are safe. But you’re right. I have no explanation for why they were chosen,” Mrs. B says, and looks at us. “I want each of you to promise to come to me if you’re contacted again. Will you do that?”

We tell her we will, and Stranko adds, “Or come to me.”

Yeah right.

“So what happens now?” Reverend Wick says. It’s the first time he’s spoken tonight. As a school board member, this has to be pretty embarrassing. Not Hitler-moustache-embarrassing, but embarrassing nonetheless.

Mrs. B teepees her fingers under her chin for a moment, then says, “On one hand, it’s clear to me these students are not responsible for the water tower vandalism. Do you agree, Mr. Stranko?”

Stranko nods but without much confidence behind it. You get the feeling he almost he wishes we were the culprits.

“On the other hand,” Mrs. B says, “we have a very clear policy regarding trespassing on school grounds that was spelled out at the beginning of the year. That is something that must be addressed. So tomorrow after school, you will each take part in painting over the message on the water tower. I believe two hours working in the sun may help deter you from coming onto school property again after hours.”

“How is that fair?” Adleta’s dad says. “You even said they didn’t do it. To punish them for that is crap. And Tim’s going to miss practice then. I don’t see how—”

“Or,” Mrs. B says, staring at Mr. Adleta, “I suppose we could simply turn them over to the Asheville Police Department and let them handle the trespassing violation. You could transport them to the station, could you not, Mr. Hale?”

The stare down doesn’t last long. Mr. Adleta mumbles something under his breath that causes Ellie’s mom’s cheeks to redden.

“And, David,” Mrs. B says to Wheeler, “I’d appreciate it if you could refrain from posting pictures of the water tower to that website you frequent. Is that possible?”

“Anything for you, Mrs. B,” Wheeler says.

They’re talking about H8box, a smart-ass website for posting and commenting on pictures and articles that pulls in more than two millions hits a day. In school, Wheeler may underachieve to global proportions, but on H8box, his twisted vision of the world has made him a god. If you need someone to take a picture of a crowded street at night in Singapore or want an advanced copy of a movie not out for weeks, Wheeler and his H8box connections are your guys.

Mrs. B stands and says, “If there’s nothing else, we all have an early morning tomorrow.”

We all follow her lead and stand. Boyd, probably worried I’m about to make a break for the door, puts a light hand on my arm. But it’s not necessary. I’m enjoying this. Who’d have thought juvenile delinquency would be such a thrill?

Stranko says, “Tim, you and your dad wait for me in the hall. Got it?”

I imagine Adleta running the stadium steps for the rest of his life, and before I can stop myself, a small laugh escapes my mouth.

“Is something funny, Cobb?” Stranko says. “Maybe you should understand something before you ridicule it. You could have learned a lot from the lacrosse team if you were man enough.”

And had a lobotomy, I think.

Stranko’s still sneering as he’s on his way out with the Adletas when he points to Malone.

“Send me the video you shot tonight. I want it as evidence.”

And here Stranko taps his phone again.

Something then clicks in my brain. Stranko is investigating the Chaos Club.

Just call me Sherlock Cobb.

Ellie passes by with her parents, and for a second, our eyes meet.

“We need a plan,” she whispers.

Before I can respond, her parents have her out the door, probably to exorcise the demon that led her to this blasphemy. Boyd and I follow them and are close to a clean getaway when Mrs. B calls out, “Max? Boyd? Will you two stay a minute, please?”

Boyd mutters, “Ah, hell.”

The rest of the room clears out, and Mrs. B motions for us to sit down beside her at the table.

“Boyd, it seems like just yesterday that we were having meetings in here with your parents about you.”

“I was sort of hoping not to be back, Mrs. Barber. No offense.”

“None taken,” Mrs. B says, smiling. “Work keeping you busy?”

“Plenty.”

“Has Pat Kreider contacted you yet?”

“We’re supposed to have a meeting next week. Thanks for the recommendation.”

Mrs. B waves it away.