The Fourth Stall Part III (15 page)

S
taples was on his feet and hobbling away down the street before I could even sit up. I didn't chase after him. For one, I was winded. And besides, what did it matter anymore? The damage was done. And even if I had caught him again, what would I do? He would beat me senseless.

I got up slowly at first, not really wanting to see the gory details down under the bridge. But then the thought of the briefcase possibly being safe and sound on the bank or still sealed and floating downstream fast practically jettisoned me onto my feet and over to the railing.

I peered over and saw the briefcase floating open and facedown in the creek below. It was quickly rushing away downstream, but even in the darkness of night I could see that it was a lost cause. Cash billowed out around it in the water, becoming soggy and eventually disappearing under the force of the black current.

The thought entered my mind briefly of running down there and diving in to salvage what I could, but then the idea drifted off as the briefcase rushed farther and farther away. It was just moving too fast. I didn't think it would even be possible to catch up with it now. And even if I could save some of it, what would I do with it? This was an all-or-nothing sort of situation.

I stood there silently, peering over the railing, and watched as my fortune flowed away into the dark until I could no longer see any trace of it. As if all four thousand dollars of it had never even existed in the first place.

Who knows, maybe it hadn't?

That was my state of mind in that moment. I was too shocked, too stunned, to be thinking clearly. To even be able to tell the difference between what was real or imagined.

I went down to the bank below and managed to salvage a few hundred dollars that had fluttered to shore in the breeze when the briefcase opened. I still owed money to a few of the kids who had helped me. I could at least make good on my debt to them. Then I walked back to my house. Along the way I debated just bowing out and letting happen whatever was going to happen. I thought about just cutting my losses and staying home from school for a year, letting Jimmy dig himself out of the grave he'd dug. But the problem with that was the rest of the school would suffer, too.

And beyond that, it wouldn't be right. I mean, not necessarily because of whatever sabotage Kinko would unleash on our school, but more so just because, even after everything, I still had my business principles. I still believed there was a right way and wrong way to conduct business. And the right way was to face your own failures with some dignity and not go running away. I had made a business deal with Kinko, and it didn't matter why I wasn't able to keep my end of the deal. The fact was I hadn't kept it, and I was going to have to face the consequences. It was the right thing to do. Once I faced Kinko and took responsibility, then whatever happened after that, well, that would be out of my hands at that point.

I got back to my house to find Great White lecturing Little Paul. He was so angry that he actually had Little Paul in tears. He stopped when he saw me approaching.

“Did you catch the git?”

I nodded.

“Where's the money, then?”

I shook my head.

He strung off a whole bunch of swearwords—some that I recognized and some that were too British for me to understand, though I didn't even need to in order to know that I couldn't ever repeat them at school or in front of my parents.

“Go home,” I said to Little Paul, who was sniffing and wiping frantically at his tears, trying to save face.

He nodded and hopped on his bike and pedaled away as if he was running from something.

“Where's Kevin?” I asked.

“Aw, that git ran like a bloody coward when Mitch and Justin jumped me,” Great White said. “We're going to have a row about it tomorrow, me and him. Believe me.”

I shrugged. I didn't really care either way anymore.

“Just don't put him in the hospital or anything, okay?” I said.

“Ay,” Great White said. “Look, Mac, I'm sorry. They had the jump on me; there was nothing I could do. I tried yelling for you, but they . . . Well, it don't really matter now do it?”

I shook my head. No, it didn't. “It's okay; you're the one guy who actually did his job tonight. It's not your fault.”

He nodded. “All right. Let me know if you need my help getting even or getting out of this or something.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Then he got on his bike and rode off, leaving me alone in my front yard.

S
taples's car was gone the next morning when I got up. He must have come back to get it at some point. That was fine; I clearly wasn't going to catch a ride with him to TV.

Twenty minutes later, after I'd called My-Me to call me in sick again, a small car pulled in to my driveway. I got in the passenger side.

“Hey, Mac,” Hannah said.

“Thanks for doing this for me,” I said.

She laughed.

“I'll take any opportunity to borrow my dad's car now that I have my license. And besides, you did say you'd make it worth my while.”

I laughed, too, and then handed her a twenty.

“So Thief Valley. What could you possibly have going on there?”

“It's a long story,” I said, looking out the window.

“You know what? I don't think I even want to know,” she said.

But I told her anyway, at least the short version.

“Well, serves you right, doesn't it?” she said as we neared Thief Valley.

“Ouch.”

“I'm only kidding, Mac. But, really, I mean, if you want to keep yourself out of this kind of trouble, then you really need to let this business go.
Completely
.”

I nodded. I knew that now. I just wished I had known that two months ago.

I had gotten an email from Kinko Saturday night with brief instructions on how to get into her office without setting foot on school grounds. Just to avoid the sort of recess supervisor mishap that had occurred last time. I didn't know how she got my email address, but I supposed I had my way of getting such things if I needed them, too.

Apparently most customers entered the tunnels using a secret door under the school's stage. However, some entered using a secret passage in a crawl space underneath the school janitor's equipment shed, which was located across the street from the school next to a few large industrial aluminum garages.

Kinko had told me that ten in the morning was the best time to sneak in. Her email said the janitor was usually cleaning one of the bathrooms at that time. I guessed their janitor was like most old people in that they kept to a pretty regular schedule.

I found the crawl space, then the trap door. The crawl space wasn't as dirty as you might expect, but I guessed that made sense, considering how much use it was getting. I took out the small flashlight that I'd brought and climbed down the metal ladder into a narrow cement tunnel.

It didn't take as long as I'd expected to navigate my way to the main chamber. I knocked on the steel door. It opened and I was suddenly facing the twins again. The guy smiled; the girl scowled.

“We've been expecting you,” he said.

They led me inside and once again escorted me to the door of Kinko's office. The guy opened it and I stepped inside. The scene was nearly the same as last time: Kinko sat at her desk and Sue loomed behind her, leaning against a wall. But this time Michi Oba was also there, barely visible, standing in the shadows in the corner.

“Hi!” Kinko said, and then took a huge swig of Sprite.

“Hi,” I said as the door behind me closed.

Kinko pointed at the chair across from her. She put the cap back on her soda and then took out a phone and started typing into it. I sat down and waited. She finished typing, paused, giggled, and then typed in something else.

“So,” she said without looking up, “where's the money? It's hard to believe that you've got four grand just, like, crammed into the pockets of your jeans.”

“You must already know I don't have it,” I said.

She laughed, but most of her attention still seemed to be on her phone. I just sat there.

“Sorry,” she said, nodding at her phone. “My friend is
so
funny.”

I nodded and tried to muster a smile. If she knew about the money, maybe she'd consider taking it easy on me. She hated her brother as much as I did at that point, after all.

“Is there any way we can get a second chance?” I asked. “I mean, can you show us a little mercy? Your brother was the one who stole it from me, anyway.”

She finally put her phone away.

“No, sorry,” she said. “No second chances. It doesn't matter whose fault it was. What matters is that I still don't have my money or school records.”

I nodded in defeat. I'd figured as much.

“We had it, though,” I said. “I mean, what good is destroying our school going to do now?”

“I'm not going to destroy it,” she said. “See, I own you now. You'll be making money for me until I have to pay for college. That's all I really want.”

“So you want me to keep running my business and cut you in? Is that what this is now?”

“Ha! You are smart. Except not cut me in . . . I want it all. Your portion of the profits will simply be that I won't destroy your school.”

She took another swig of Sprite. Then she burped. Not like you'd expect a tiny third grader to, though. Instead she let loose a huge rippling belch like you'd expect your uncle to unleash after a giant Thanksgiving dinner. Then she started giggling as if burping was the funniest thing in the world.

Even Michi Oba giggled. I shook my head. Third graders.

“So anyway, like, what were we talking about again?”

“The weather?” I suggested. “Or maybe it was football. How about those Bears, right? They're off to a good start this season.”

She rolled her eyes. “So that's it, then. You'll keep running your business for me?”

The answer was simple. I couldn't go back to that life. Not after everything that had happened. It caused nothing but disaster.

“No,” I said.

“Are you sure you want to say no?”

I nodded.

“You know what I can do to you and your school if I want to, right?”

I nodded again. “Still, no. I'm out. Do your worst.”

“It's too bad. I kind of like you. You sort of remind me of my older brother when he was younger.”

Great. That's all I needed to hear. Someday I was going to turn into a sadistic jerk who liked to punch little kids on the arm and torture them psychologically and figuratively stab them in the back.

“Thanks?” I said.

Kinko laughed and then drank more Sprite. She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a Fruit Roll-Up, which she unrolled and ate. And she ate it like you'd expect a third grader to: she flopped it around and played with the shapes and put her grimy little hands all over it first. I watched all of this in silence. Then, when she was chewing her last bite, she finally spoke again.

“Well, I probably don't even have to say how much trouble you're in. And also, I can't let you walk out of here totally scot-free either.”

I tensed in my chair.

“Mark him,” Kinko said.

Michi Oba started moving toward me in an instant. She was fast, faster than I'd have thought possible for a human being. I saw something large and black in her hand, and I rolled out of my chair instinctively. I got up to make a dash for it but then slammed into a wall and everything went black.

I
opened my eyes slowly, vaguely aware that I was sitting in what felt like a normal chair. Kinko was directly in my line of vision, and as my eyes adjusted, I saw her smirk.

“Whew, I was getting nervous!” she said.

“Did I actually run into a wall?” I asked, remembering now what had happened before I blacked out.

Kinko laughed. “You could say that, I suppose. It was probably like running into a wall. But, really, you just got introduced to Sue.”

“Could have fooled me; it sure felt like a wall,” I said.

Kinko giggled again. “Man, you're funny, Mac! Well, let me know when you feel good enough to walk again, and I'll have the Aussie lead you out of here.”

“You're not going to mark me or whatever anymore?”

“Oh, we already did. While you were out cold.”

I looked down at myself, checking for missing limbs, and then felt my torso for any holes or cuts. I seemed to be okay. Maybe she was kidding? Meanwhile, Kinko watched me panic and was giggling. Michi Oba stood behind her and grinned at me. She was missing one of her front teeth.

“What did you do to me? What is getting marked, anyway?”

Michi and Kinko looked at each other and then burst out laughing. I didn't like being toyed with. I felt my face and hair and ears, but they all felt normal, too. I decided that this just must be some sort of demented psychological mind game that they were playing.

“So I can really go? Just like that?” I asked.

“Yeah, the Aussie is outside waiting for you. He'll make sure you get off school property okay again.”

“Why would you make sure I make it safely? You basically have declared open war on me and my school.”

“That may be true, but I'm not going to exact revenge on my home turf. I didn't get this far by baiting the Suits like that.”

I nodded. Well, she may have been an insane and ruthless genius just like her brother, but at least she ran her business the right way. I had to respect her for that.

 

“What happened to you?” Hannah asked as soon as I got in her car.

“What do you mean? I'm pretty much right on time,” I said.

“No, what happened to your face?” The expression of horror and shock that she had worn was wiped away by a smile. Then she started snickering.

I flipped down the visor in her car, looking for a mirror. It didn't have one. I reached out for the rearview mirror, and then Hannah smacked my hand away.

“Don't touch,” she snapped.

“What did they do to my face?” I asked.

She just grinned again and shook her head.

I sighed and tried desperately to lean down in a way where I could see my face in the sideview mirror. I could see only part of it, but I could see enough to know that getting marked meant having Michi Oba draw or write stuff in thick black ink all over your face. I couldn't tell what it was exactly, but it was on my cheek, forehead, chin, everywhere.

I leaned back in my seat and let out a sigh, which Hannah answered with another laugh. But at least this one was tinged with a little sympathy, too, if that was possible.

 

“I can't believe you didn't tell me that the money was— Holy, what happened to your face?!” Vince said when I walked into his room that day around four o'clock.

“I got marked,” I said, and sat down on his bed.

I looked in the mirror behind his bedroom door, even though I'd already had a good look when I'd gotten home earlier that afternoon. Michi was good, I'd give her that. She wrote thick black letters in a unique and eye-catching font. And they were big block letters, couldn't be missed even from a hundred miles away, probably. She had covered almost 90 percent of my face with one word written several times:
Narc
.

I'd come to find out later that that was the true art of the mark. Michi Oba had a talent. She could look at you just once and know immediately what single word you would most hate to have plastered all over your face. The one word that would probably humiliate you the most. She didn't even have to know you.

For me she'd nailed it. Especially after I'd narced myself out last year in order stop Dr. George.

“Wow. Have you tried washing it off?” Vince asked.

“No. I thought I'd leave it for a while. I kind of like it, you know?” I said.

Vince rolled his eyes. “Sorry I asked.”

“No, I'm sorry, Vince. I'm just annoyed. I spent all afternoon scrubbing my face until I was pretty sure I'd turn myself into Skeletor. I don't know what kind of ink she used, but it's super permanent. How will I explain this to my parents?”

Vince shook his head and sat down on the other end of the bed. He switched on his PlayStation and handed me one of the wireless controllers. I obviously didn't feel much like video games right then, but I grabbed it anyway. Sometimes all you really need is a couple hours with a video game to make you forget about all the crappy stuff happening.

“So, what's next, then?” Vince asked as he got
Madden
going. We normally preferred baseball or FPS video games above all else, but during the first few months of the football season it was almost always the newest Madden.

I shrugged as I selected one of the worst teams. I always did since I was so much better at
Madden
than Vince. It was probably the one thing I was actually better at than him.

“Did she give any hint of what they'll do or when they'll strike?”

“No,” I said.

Vince was getting frustrated. He always liked to have a plan, to be thinking ahead. So to have no good information, I thought, was driving him crazy.

“Are we going to fight back or just let you and the school suffer?” he asked.

“I think we should just see what happens next and decide then,” I said. “I mean, we've never been in this kind of spot before. I really don't know what to do.”

Vince nodded. “Okay, sure. I mean, I guess it's like my grandma says . . .”

I groaned, but already I felt a smile sneaking its way onto my marked face.

“‘Sometimes you just know the answer, and other times you need to wait for the arrival of Dr. Appleplasty and his team of über talented, talking lizard people.'”

And then in spite of everything else I laughed so hard I dropped my PlayStation controller, allowing Vince to score a touchdown on the first play of the game.