Don't Get Caught(9)

“So, Max,” she says, “we’ve never really spoken before, have we?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Well, I’m sorry it has to be under these circumstances, but we might as well make the best of it. I’m sure you know your parents attended school here, but did you know your father once used a coat hanger to break into my car for me when I locked my keys inside?”

It’s not a story I’ve heard, but as far as Dad’s pseudocriminal abilities are concerned, well, he and Boyd are friends for a reason.

“Jump ahead twenty-five years later, and here’s his son, the apple not falling far from the tree,” she says. “Do you think that, like your father, you’ll only use your abilities for good, or will this be the first of many unfortunate visits to my office?”

“I don’t plan on being back.”

“Oh, you’re welcome back, Max. Let’s just hope it’s for something positive next time. And, Boyd, you’ll pass all this on to his parents?”

“Absolutely. Max and I’ll be having a long discussion about this on the way home.”

But the only talking Boyd and I do is when we’re pulling out of the parking lot in his truck, Guns N’ Roses blasting on the radio.

“Thanks for saving my ass,” I say.

“Hell, when I was your age, I used to wish I had someone half as cool as me on my side. It’s nice to do some good for once. You okay?”

“Surprisingly, yeah. More than okay, actually. I just feel stupid.”

“About getting tricked, getting caught, or getting lectured?”

“All of the above.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right. You get used to it though.”

Boyd smokes a cigarette and leaves me alone for the rest of the ride. I put my feet on the dash and close my eyes, smiling to myself as I replay the night. Ten minutes later, we’re parked on the street a few houses down from mine. I thank him again as I climb out.

“This is just between the two of us, right?” I say.

“You got it, man.”

“Thanks, Uncle Boyd.”

“I gotta say, I’m sort of proud of you, doing something dumb like this,” Boyd says. “It’s unexpected. Good for you.”

Which is pretty much why I went in the first place.

I don’t expect Mom and Dad to be sitting on my bed in full war paint, ready to take hatchets to me, but I still breathe a sigh of relief when I reenter the house through my window and see my bedroom is empty. That’s the nice thing about being boring—it gets to where even your parents overlook you.

When I climb into bed, you’d think I’d be able to relax now that the shock of getting caught has passed.

But you’d be wrong.

Relaxing is the last thing on my mind.

Because if I’ve learned anything tonight, it’s that having the guts to not be a nobody—that taking risks and being Not Max—feels good.

No, scratch that.

It feels great.

What doesn’t feel good is knowing someone set me up and I was dumb enough to fall for it.

Just Max may have put up with that, but Not Max sure as hell won’t.

Ellie’s right—we need a plan.

It’s Heist Rule #7: Always get payback.





Chapter 5


The worst thing about school the next day isn’t how the school newspaper website headline reads The Water Tower 5.

Or the photoshopped picture of the five of us in prison-orange jumpsuits accompanying the story.

Or the constant calls of “Water Tower Five!” in the halls.

Or how someone Sharpied it on my locker.

No, the worst part is that I respond to it by hiding my ass in the theater. Before school, between periods, during lunch, I sit in the dark theater, embarrassed, worrying that a group of students will come in and stand in a circle around me, mocking my very existence and stupidity.

Can you say delusions of grandeur?

And believe me, I know how pathetic I sound. Not Max would punch Just Max in the groin for behaving this way. Less than eight hours ago, I was full of gung ho confidence, ready to destroy my enemies single-handedly. Now I’m considering faking a stomachache so I can go home early. But I can’t help it. I didn’t think there was anything worse than being a nobody, but it turns out I was wrong. Being thought of as an idiot is way worse. Add that to the shame I feel for being a coward, for disappearing instead of walking the halls with a screw you swagger like any one of my movie heroes would do, and my descent into loserdom is complete.

Coming a close second in the Worst Thing about School the Next Day list is the perp walk Warden Stranko forces us to do from his office to the water tower after school. He marches us through a corridor of students in the parking lot, everyone laughing and pointing at us in the safety helmets we’re forced to wear. Like an inmate entering the prison population, I keep my head down as I walk and ignore the ridicule. It’s not easy though, especially with the entire lacrosse team waiting for us at the tower. As we get close, Geoff Varelman, the senior captain, says to the others, “Any of you guys smell piss? Because I smell piss. It reeks of piss.”

Clearly, Varelman has a bright future as a prison yard storyteller.

At the base of the tower, Stranko orders us to step into crotch-strangling harnesses with ropes and clips around the waist.