The Fourth Stall (21 page)

“Look, Staples, how about we team up after all? I mean, not like in a cheesy way where we’re now like best friends who hold hands and sing pop songs together while prancing through the meadow. But more so I’ll be your business adviser. I can help you run your business better; I can help you make more money. The right way. I’ll even start you off with a business loan. We’ll get your sister back for you.”

“I don’t need your help,” he said, scoffing. “She’s my sister. I’m her brother. I can get her back on my own.”

I sighed and looked at Vince again. He just shrugged.

“Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me,” I said. “In the meantime I’m going to need to keep some of the stuff we found in your shed as collateral. The notebooks detailing bets you took and other records that might prompt the authorities to look further into any other unsavory activities you might have going on. If you ever tip off Dickerson, then we’ll have to tip off the cops about what you’ve been up to, and then you’ll never get your sister back.”

He glared at me.

“Hey, I don’t want it to be like this. But I clearly can’t trust you without any insurance,” I said. “I offered my help and you turned it down, so this is what we’re left with.”

“Yeah, whatever, Christian,” Staples said. “Keep that stuff, I don’t care. I’m not going to say anything to anybody.” He dropped his head again, making no effort to get up. He just ran his hand through the dirt as if digging for the answer to all his problems.

There was still an edge to his voice I didn’t so much care for, but I could tell he wasn’t going to fight anymore. He looked about as defeated and hopeless as the Cubs were of ever winning the World Series.

“The name’s Mac, by the way,” I said to him.

“Whatever,
Mac
,” he said without looking up.

“We’re not actually going to let him go, are we?” Kitten asked. I could tell he still wanted more payback for the Shed incident. I would have to make it up to him with money once I got my Funds back in my hands.

“Yes. It’s not worth the trouble. Plus, he clearly hasn’t gotten too many breaks in his life. Everybody needs a break once in a while.”

Staples scoffed at this, but I think it was more in agreement with what I’d said than anything else.

“Let’s go,” I said.

We all walked back to the bikes. Staples just sat there on the ground staring at the dirt with a blank look in his eyes. He looked like a broken toy.

“By the way,” I said as we approached the bikes. “What’s with all your weapons? You couldn’t find anything that might’ve actually scared them?”

Nubby laughed and waved the trout chew toy at me. “Hey, we were in a hurry. This was the only stuff we could find in Staples’s shed on such short notice.”

Great White came running out from behind a nearby tree now that it was clear the conflict was over.

“I owe you,” I said.

“Bloody right you do,” he said, and laughed. “A few thousand quid ought to do it.”

I chuckled, too, even though I knew he wasn’t kidding. I was going to have to pay him a pretty hefty sum for what he’d done for me. I wasn’t really sure how many dollars a few thousand quid would be, though. It must have been another one of those British things.

“Why the heck did you decide to bring a water gun, anyway?” I asked.

Great White laughed. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it, mate?”

I grinned and nodded. He had a point. I couldn’t really argue; that dumb water gun had probably saved my business, my permanent record, and my reputation.

Before we left, I went to Staples’s car and grabbed his car keys from the ignition. I shoved them into my pocket and then stood on the pegs on the back wheels of Vince’s bike. I grabbed his backpack to steady myself.

“Let’s go,” I said, and we rode.

Chapter 28

I
t took a good thirty minutes to get back to our neighborhood. On the way I asked for more details about the raid.
In addition to finding the Emergency Fund and the Game Fund under the floorboards, they’d also found the same extensive logs that Tyrell and I had found Saturday of bets placed and money taken and kids who Staples had paid off to throw games. Oddly enough, they hadn’t found much money besides what he had stolen from me. My crew had left all the records and money back at Vince’s house with Tyrell guarding them. We’d store all of Staples’s records in a safe place for insurance, just in case he ever tried to come back. And we’d divvy up whatever extra money they did find to all the kids he’d swindled it from.

They also told me how they found out we were at the Yard. After the phone cut out they grabbed whatever weapons they could find and went to the school to check things out. There they found Fred curled up into a little ball. He must have been feeling pretty guilty because as soon as they got him unfurled, Fred told them that Staples usually brought people who needed to be taught a lesson out to the Yard. They jumped back on their bikes and rode on out to save me.

Everybody was sweating pretty hard by the time we got back into town. I thanked them all at least a billion times and told them to meet me in my office at morning recess. After we parted ways, I had Vince ride to Staples’s house. I went onto the porch and tossed his car keys inside the mailbox.

Then we rode to my house. Once in my driveway I hopped off the bike and faced Vince. He looked at me, squinting into the sun.

“Hey, Mac, I’m glad you’re okay. I was pretty worried there for a while,” he said.

“Yeah, me, too. Thanks for rescuing me.”

“Hey, no problem. It’s like my grandma always says, ‘A real friend is someone who is there for you when he’d rather be anywhere else.’”

I smiled. “Hey, that one’s pretty good. She really says that?”

“No, of course not. I made some changes. Hers goes something like this: ‘A friend is like an eagle with no wings because they’ll both get eaten by a giant spaghetti noodle.’”

We both laughed.

“Hey, why didn’t you guys ever call the cops?” I asked.

“We didn’t really know for sure if you really were out at the Yard. Plus, the bullies didn’t want the cops around to witness the sort of revenge that they were planning,” Vince said.

“Makes sense,” I said with a shrug. “Hey, Vince?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry again that I actually thought that you were the traitor for a while. It was horrible to have believed it,” I said. I looked at him, not knowing what else to say.

He shook his head. “Remember a few years ago when I was so convinced that you stole my Ron Santo rookie card because you just happened to buy one on the same day that mine went missing? I was so mad at you that I wouldn’t even look at you, let alone talk to you. Yet, when I found my card a few days later, you forgave me instantly. You weren’t even mad that I suspected you. So now I figure that I should do the same.”

“I still feel bad, that’s all,” I said.

“I’m just glad you’re still alive. And that we got all our money back and that we’re still friends and business partners and stuff like that.” He rolled his bike’s front tire back and forth across a line on the sidewalk.

“Me, too. That was like the worst three days of my life,” I said as I scratched my eye. I thought I’d gotten some sand in it while I was on the ground out at the Yard.

“Hey, you’re not going to get all weepy on me, are you?” Vince said.

“No, no it was just—”

“Because it’s totally okay if you do,” Vince interrupted. “I’ve actually been collecting tears. I’m planning on building a time machine that runs on tears, bleach, and oranges. Then I can go way back and tell the Cubs not to trade away Greg Maddux and draft Mark Prior. Oh, it would also be cool to, like, see the Gettysburg Address or something, too.”

He had stepped off his bike and was now holding a little clear tube up to my cheek. He had a serious look on his face, as if missing a single tear would mean the end of the world.

I pushed his hand away. He had such perfect timing.

“Come on! Get out of here with that,” I said. “Where did you get that anyways? How long have you been carrying that vial around, waiting for a time like this?”

Vince laughed. “We did a dumb science lab today in Bolig’s class. I stole it. Don’t you believe me? Start crying, please.”

I shoved him back a little again and said, “I can get a few going if you give me some space, you needy creep.”

“No, I’m just messing around, Mac. It’s too late to save the Cubs of the past, and the Gettysburg Address would be totally boring, I bet.” He chucked the little vial into the garbage can on the curb. “But I do have a good one for you. For real this time. I thought of it back when Staples had you in a headlock, but I figured that wasn’t the best time to ask.”

“Yeah, no kidding. All right, let’s have it,” I said.

“Who was the first Cub to win the Rookie of the Year award?”

“Oh man . . . that is tough . . . Ernie Banks?”

“I can’t believe it. I’ve finally defeated Mac. I am the new Cubs fan champion!” Vince yelled as he raised his arms into the air. “You’re close, but the answer is Billy Williams in 1961.”

I staggered backward and shook my head. “I declare shenanigans! Get the broom; it’s not legal to ask a question right after I was just in a near-death experience!” I yelled, but I was laughing, too.

“Okay, okay, fine. I’ll give you a pass this
one
time, being that you just about got a back-alley spinal adjustment a few minutes ago. But I will get you again, Mac,” Vince said while grinning.

“We’ll see about that. Speaking of the Cubs, are we still going to the game?” I asked. I knew this was kind of a tricky question now, since Vince’s family needed money so badly. I mean, is it that easy to give up a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you had dreamed about for your whole life? Could we go to a game costing thousands of dollars in good conscience while Vince’s mom sat at home and wasted away talking about the pros and cons of Swedish politics with a switched-off TV?

“Well, in case you forgot, the Cubs are up three games to none over the Phillies. So if they win tonight, the tickets will go on sale tomorrow morning. The sooner we try for them the better, since they’ll be out of our price range probably by tomorrow night,” Vince said.

“Why don’t you come over and we’ll watch the game together? And if they win, we’ll figure it out right then and there.”

“All right, sounds good,” he said, and rode off down the street.

It wasn’t that simple, though. I had seen the look in his eyes. It was just a glimmer, but it was there: uncertainty. He had been thinking the same thing I had. Could we really spend close to six thousand dollars on one baseball game when his family was in such bad shape? I guessed we’d have to talk about it that night as we watched the game.

It was almost a sure thing, too. Very few teams in baseball history had ever lost a 3–0 lead in a Championship Series. It was as close as a sure thing as you could get in baseball. Just the thought that the Cubs were that close to finally making it back sent shivers up my spine. But right then I wasn’t sure if it
was
because of the Cubs that I felt so happy. I think it was due more to the fact that I had regained my business, my money, and most important, my best friend.

I went straight to the bathroom and cleaned up. My elbow and back had some pretty good scrapes, but otherwise the damage wasn’t too bad. My parents didn’t even notice that anything was wrong by the time we all sat down for dinner. I tried not to laugh too much as I sat there eating my mom’s chili. I kept wondering what my parents would think if they knew what had happened to me after school. It all seemed pretty funny now that it was over.

Chapter 29

T
he next morning at recess we all grouped in my office. I thanked everyone with a pretty good chunk of the Emergency Fund. I told Tyrell and the three bullies that I’d never forget what they had done and anytime they needed something they should feel free to stop by my office. They left the East Wing boys’ bathroom much, much richer than they had been before they’d entered.

“Well, Fred, I have to say thanks,” I said after the others left. “I mean, you
did
betray us all, but what you did to make up for it took a lot of guts.”

“No, Mac. I’m still really sorry for that. I mean, Staples can be pretty mean and I was way too scared to say no to him most of the time,” he said. “I really hated lying all the time, I really did, but my other option was to get beat up. Badly.”

Speaking of Staples, you might be wondering what exactly happened to him. Well, nobody’s really sure. He just kind of disappeared. We rode by his house on our bikes a few days after the incident at the Yard and it was completely abandoned, red tape all across the doors and windows. A few weeks later the house had been cleaned up a little bit and a bright white For Sale sign sat in the front lawn looking like a used car salesman standing next to a lot of rusty bicycles.

I wasn’t sure if Staples had run because he was afraid of my threats to turn him in to the cops, or if it was out of shame, or maybe his dad had gotten arrested and Staples was living with foster parents like his sister was. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care so much, except I did hope that wherever he was, he was in a better place. And I really, truly hoped that he got his sister back someday. Maybe that’s all he really needed to get himself back on the right track. Because deep down, I’m not sure he was all that bad a guy. Maybe I had pushed his buttons a little bit. The last time I saw him was back in the Yard, when he was just sitting there staring at the ground.

With the Staples mess officially taken care of, my first order of business was to make amends with a former employee. I’d never wrongfully fired somebody before, and Brady didn’t deserve that kind of embarrassment. So I called him into my office and offered him a heartfelt apology. And a nice bonus.

You might also be wondering about the Cubs game, too, I bet. As I said before, we were in kind of a predicament, given our access to loads of cash and Vince’s family having a real hard time right then. And it would have been almost impossible to have to choose, but luckily for us we never had to. Because the Cubs chose for us by doing what they do best: choking.

That’s right, the Cubs choked away their last four games and became one of just a few teams to ever lose a 3–0 lead in a Championship Series. So they missed the World Series yet again, which honestly shouldn’t have surprised anybody. It’s like one of those things that are written in some dusty prophecy that old, creepy guys in robes will talk about for years to come while sitting in a circle surrounded by candles and incense. So let it be written, so let it be sealed in fate:
The Cubs will be losers forever
.

But I’m not bitter, oh no. Definitely not bitter. I mean, I give them my blood, sweat, and tears and they repay me with year after year of losing seasons. Why should I be bitter? Okay, okay, I’m still a little pissed about the whole thing; it was pretty devastating. Vince even cried a little bit. But like I said, what else is new? I’ve already said they’re the worst team in sports history. Losing is like breathing for them—it comes naturally. They don’t even have to think about it; it just happens. Every time. No matter what.

But the one bright side was that it freed up some money for Vince to sneakily give to his mom in small amounts. And we still have a pretty good head start now for saving up for next year. The odds of the Cubs being that good two years in a row are astronomically high, but it’s all us Cubs fans have. Hope.

With the news of Staples’s demise, it didn’t take long at all for our business to get back on track. Most kids didn’t know that Staples had moved away. The rumor that most kids seemed to believe was that we had buried Staples alive out in the Yard and now his ghost haunted the place. I have to say that that’s a pretty gruesome thought, but you have to hand it to the kids at my school: they have pretty good imaginations. Anyways, kids began pouring in and some were there simply to be able to say they talked to the guys who had defeated Staples. It was all kind of embarrassing, to be honest.

Joe stayed on as my strongman, and Vince went back to managing the finances and just being generally brilliant and hilarious. And we also added one more guy to the payroll. It took some time for us all to trust him fully, but eventually Fred proved to be a great addition. He is now the official record keeper. He sits in the stall next to mine and takes notes on his Nintendo DS. We have a pretty good system, and business was positively booming within days of the Staples Incident.

Things really were going well. In fact, they couldn’t have been going any better. At least, that is until
she
walked into my office on one rainy Tuesday afternoon. I knew she was trouble from the moment I laid eyes on her. Everyone knows that in grade school, girls are more dangerous than shotguns. At least that’s if shotguns are as dangerous as Officer Weston told us they are that one day he came to our class to tell us about how if you basically even looked at a shotgun, then you’d end up a smelly, homeless bum who failed out of school and lost all your friends and family and all that you’d have left in the whole world was a one-armed teddy bear named Oscar.

She walked into my office with damp hair and a swagger that I found both attractive and unnerving. She was tall and impossibly pretty. I didn’t even know if I was making sense when I started talking to her. But it didn’t matter, because she quickly took over the conversation. Her voice was intelligent and confident and it didn’t take long for her to entangle me in a web of brutal lies and problems so complicated that I was sure my head would explode.

But that’s probably a story better left for another day.