To Catch a Cheat
CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
DEDICATION
CAST
A TEST OF WILLS
SENDING A MESSAGE
THE MORE THINGS CHANGE
ON MY HONOR
A PINCH OF THE TRUTH
THIS IS NOT A TEST
THE GANG’S ALL HERE
CIVIC DUTY
SEALING THE DEAL
THE SOUNDING BOARD
OUTSOURCING
HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY
SECOND PLACE
SERENA ON THE CASE
BRADLEY MAKES AN IMPRESSION
MAKING A LIST, CHECKING IT TWICE
EXECUTIVE ORDERS
GABY AND THE BRICK WALL
THE RUNNING MAN
HIDE AND SEEK
RUNS IN THE FAMILY
PULLING BACK THE CURTAIN
CARLITO IN CHARGE
UNANNOUNCED GUESTS
A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL
PREPARING FOR CHECKMATE
FULL-COURT PRESS
TIME IS NOT ON OUR SIDE
SMARTER THAN THE AVERAGE CHEAT
FEELING SECURE
THE MUTARA NEBULA
THE PALM STING
BREAKING THE CODE
SERENA TAKES COMMAND
HURRY UP AND WAIT
SURVEYING THE DAMAGE
CHEATERS AND THIEVES
POOR SERVICE
A NEW DEAL
THE WHITE ELEPHANT EXCHANGE
ONE BRIGHT SPOT IN THE DAY
A TRAIL OF CHEESE
UNDER THE SPOTLIGHT
A RAT WITH A WATCH IS STILL A RAT
IT TAKES A THIEF …
FINAL EXAM
TO CATCH A CHEAT CONS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COPYRIGHT
Jackson Greene placed his pen on his desk, loosened his red tie, then flipped the page on his American history exam. It was only a practice test, but Mrs. Clark had promised that any student who scored above 95 percent would automatically be excused from her brutal end-of-the semester final. That was supposed to serve as an incentive for students to study over the winter break.
Given the moans, groans, and grunts echoing around the room, Jackson guessed that everyone would be taking the final exam. Including him.
He had just reached question forty-one out of fifty when Becca Simpson, the first period office helper, entered the room and handed Mrs. Clark a note.
“I’m sorry,” the teacher said to Becca after she had switched on a desk lamp to read the message, “but the principal will have to wait until Jackson finishes his exam.” Her eyes locked on to Jackson. “Eyes on your desk, Mr. Greene!”
Jackson sighed and returned to his exam as the office helper left the room. Of course Dr. Kelsey wanted to see him — Jackson was always his number-one suspect when something went wrong at the school. Still, it would have been nice to go at least one full day after returning from winter break without seeing the principal.
A few minutes later, the timer on the teacher’s desk buzzed.
Rob Richards slammed down his pen. “Forty minutes already?” He turned to his best friend, Thom Jordan. “I was sure we had —”
“No talking!” Mrs. Clark said, crossing her arms. “Or do you two need another reminder of my rules?”
“No, ma’am,” both Rob and Thom mumbled.
Jackson shook his head. Sneaking a glance at Mrs. Clark was one thing, but talking during one of her exams? No way. The rumor was, the last time someone spoke during a test, she ripped the student’s paper in half and kicked him out of the room.
Mrs. Clark passed through the rows of students, picking up each test and pen. She locked everything up in her file cabinet and slipped the ring of keys into her pocket.
“The final exam is in less than two weeks. Given the answers I saw as I walked around the room, I’d suggest you start studying now.” She made her way to the front of the class. “Everyone turn to page eighty-five in the text. Except you, Mr. Greene,” she said. “You’re wanted in the main office.”
Jackson grabbed his book bag and glanced at Hashemi Larijani, who sat a few seats behind him. Hashemi offered him a sympathetic look before turning back to his desk.
Jackson walked down the hallway, his feet making squishing sounds on the still-wet carpet. All the toilets in the school had flooded over the weekend, ruining the carpeting in half of the building. Some kids were calling it an accident, but Jackson knew a prank when he saw one.
Which was why he figured Dr. Kelsey wanted to see him.
Ever since the Election Job — or as Hashemi and the others still called it, the Great Greene Heist — Dr. Kelsey had made it his mission to catch Jackson in the act of another con. But there was nothing for Kelsey to catch. The crew had disbanded. Gang Greene was no more, and the Infamous Jackson Greene had retired.
Allegedly.
Plus, stopping Keith Sinclair from winning a rigged election had been an act performed in the name of justice. Flooding the bathrooms was a whole different type of prank — destructive and stupid. There was no way he’d pull a pointless stunt like that, not when things were going so well between him and Gaby. As Student Council president, she took matters like school vandalism very seriously.
Jackson entered the atrium just as his best friend and Gaby’s twin brother, Charlie de la Cruz, exited the main office. “Hey, Charlie,” Jackson said. “Did Kelsey call you in about the flooding?”
“Of course,” Charlie said, crossing his arms. “Why wouldn’t he?”
Jackson frowned. “You almost sound like you wanted to be questioned.”
“I’m just saying — I could pull that prank just as well as you could.”
“What? Charlie, I never said —”
“Forget it,” Charlie said, walking away. “Better hurry. Don’t want to keep Kelsey waiting.”
Before Jackson could process Charlie’s attitude, the office door swung open. “Mr. Greene,” Dr. Kelsey boomed. “Cut the chatter and get in here. We have a lot to discuss.”
Jackson followed Dr. Kelsey into his office, then covered his nose. Something smelled reminiscent of his father’s liver-and-onion casserole. “I think there’s a dead animal in here,” he said.
“You’re full of jokes, aren’t you, Mr. Greene.” The principal settled behind his desk and nodded toward a pair of brown loafers in the corner. “I ruined those running into the boys’ bathroom. By that point, the toilets had already flooded most of the social studies hallway.” He steepled his fingers. “But enough about my shoes. Tell me, where were you on Saturday evening?”
Jackson sat down on the other side of the desk. “Saturday? Mr. James said the prank happened on Sunday.”
“Mr. James should focus on security, not plumbing,” Dr. Kelsey replied. “No, given the amount of damage, we suspect that the toilets were clogged on Saturday evening, after the boys’ basketball practice. The faucets were turned on as well. So I’ll ask again — where were you on Saturday between five and eight o’clock?”
“At the library. Studying.” Jackson focused on Dr. Kelsey’s nose. He told himself not to blink, not to hesitate. “My dad dropped me off. I checked out books and everything.”
“Did anyone else see you there?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Then you don’t have an alibi.”
“But I just said —”
“Let’s be honest. A boy with your particular talents wouldn’t have any problem sneaking out of a public library unnoticed.” Dr. Kelsey pulled a black messenger bag from his bottom file cabinet. “We found this wedged behind a door. Do you recognize it?”
“I think I saw it at Target,” Jackson said. “Or maybe Walmart. On clearance. Yo
u know I’m a sucker for sales.”
“Mr. Greene, I’ve been very lenient with you over the last few months. I would hate to go back to our weekly meetings and random locker searches.”
Jackson glanced at the bag again. The flap was decorated with stickers from Rights of Warfare: Southern Seas. “Just because it looks like Charlie’s bag doesn’t mean it’s his.”
“It gets better.” Dr. Kelsey pulled a small notebook from the bag. The letters JG were stenciled into its red leather cover. “Recognize this?”
“I’ve never seen that notebook before.”
Dr. Kelsey flipped it open. “Are you sure? It looks a lot like your handwriting.”
Jackson squinted at the notebook. He didn’t want to admit it, but Kelsey was right. From what he could see, the writing even matched his standard coding system, though none of the notes made sense. “Anyone could have copied my handwriting,” he said.
“Admit it. You got sloppy. You got caught.”
“But I didn’t do it!”
“Last chance, Mr. Greene,” the principal said, clearly enjoying himself. “You were fortunate enough to avoid getting caught during the fiasco with the Student Council election a few months ago, but your luck will eventually run out. If you confess now, I’ll give you only a five-day suspension.” He returned the notebook and bag to the drawer. “I won’t be so forgiving later.”
Jackson chewed on his lip. Kelsey was bluffing. He had to be. There was no way he could suspend him for that long without proof. “What about the security system?” he finally asked. “Check the NVR.”
Dr. Kelsey pounced. “And how do you know the security system uses a network video recorder?”
“Dr. Kelsey, all modern security systems use NVRs.” He had actually heard about Dr. Kelsey’s new super hi-tech NVR and sixteen-camera surveillance system from a number of people — Mr. James, the security guard; Megan Feldman, tech geek / part-time con artist / seventh period office helper / ex-cheerleader; and even Lincoln Miller, the Student Honor Board chairman. But as tempting as it was, beyond noting the locations of the new cameras, Jackson didn’t bother to learn much about the system. He figured he had no need — he really was trying to stay retired.
“I bet you could even stream video from the NVR to your computer,” Jackson continued. “Go ahead. Look at it. That’ll prove I didn’t pull the prank.”
“I can’t. Someone stole the hard drive from the NVR,” Dr. Kelsey said. “I’m sure you’re going to say that you didn’t have anything to do with that either.”
“Of course I didn’t,” Jackson said. “But I’m guessing you’ve already checked my locker to be sure.”
“You’re still on probation, Mr. Greene. I can check your person or belongings whenever I wish.”
Jackson’s long brown fingers tightened on the chair’s armrests. Mr. James had also mentioned that each camera contained a small amount of flash memory. It was meant to serve as a backup in case the NVR hard drive was corrupted. Or stolen.
Jackson took a deep breath. “Isn’t there some type of backup?” he asked. “Like, maybe the cameras somehow —”
“Save the effort, Mr. Greene,” Dr. Kelsey said. “I know you snuck in on Saturday because the cameras hold only twenty-four hours of video. Then they record over the previous day’s data. You knew any trace of your break-in would be gone by Monday morning.”
Actually, he hadn’t known all of that. Jackson was tempted to pull out his notebook, just so he could capture all the facts. “Dr. Kelsey, I promise — I didn’t pull this prank.”
Dr. Kelsey grinned. No, he smirked. “That’s fine. You don’t have to talk. I’m sure I can eventually convince Charlie de la Cruz to speak up. Or maybe I’ll chat with Hashemi Larijani. Or Charlie’s new best friend, Bradley Boardman. It’s funny how students start talking once you take away their perks.”
“They didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“And you did?” Dr. Kelsey’s face stiffened. “Last chance. If you don’t confess now, your potential suspension goes up to ten days. I’ll also bar you from participating in all school activities and field trips for the rest of the year. The Botany Club, the class trip to Cedar Point, the Spring Formal — everything.”
Jackson straightened his tie. This was pointless. As far as Dr. Kelsey was concerned, he was guilty. He was sure the principal would march him in front of the Honor Board today if he could. And Jackson couldn’t tell him what he’d actually been doing Saturday night — not without getting Gaby in trouble too.
It was time to bring in the big guns.
“Can I use the phone?” Jackson asked, already sliding forward in his chair. “I need to call my dad.”
Gabriela de la Cruz sat in the computer lab on Monday afternoon, her ponytail curled around her finger, and reread her draft email to the teachers about February’s school-wide community service project. Satisfied, she hit SEND, then refreshed her inbox.
No new messages.
She checked her phone as well, then rose from her desk and walked to the window. It provided a bird’s-eye view of the entire northeast side of campus, including the school’s garden. One member of the Botany Club stood in the snow, spreading mulch around the base of the peony plants.
She shut down her computer and headed outside. She had to lean into the wind as she walked.
“It’s days like this that I really wish you had a cell phone,” Gaby said once she reached the garden. “It would have been a lot easier to text you instead of coming out here.”
Jackson offered her a small smile. “At this rate, my parents will never buy me a phone. I’d be better off asking Hash to build me one.”
“Are they mad?”
“No, but still … Dad doesn’t exactly enjoy getting calls at work about me.” He returned the almost-empty sack of mulch to the toolshed. “What about your parents? Do they believe Charlie?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t have a chance to talk to him for very long. He swears that he didn’t do it, but the only alibi he has for that night is hanging out with Bradley. Which doesn’t help.”
Jackson scuffed the bottom of his shoe against the hard ground, knocking dirty snow from his soles. “I heard your practice was canceled.” He leaned against the fence. “Want to bike over to the Fitz and shoot some hoops?”
“I’m not in the mood for basketball today.” Gaby leaned against the fence as well. Her arm pressed against Jackson’s, but given their heavy coats, she wondered if it really counted as contact. “You could come over to my house. My dad is making tortilla soup.”
“Yeah, and I bet my bowl will get a cup of diced jalapeños. Or some bleach.”
“How many times do I have to tell you? Daddy likes you.”
“Liked. Ever since I … Ever since we …” Jackson shook his head. “The last time I was there, he was sharpening his Rambo knife.”
“He was just playing with you.”
“I guess I missed the joke.” He shifted closer to her. “Since when do you not want to play basketball?” he asked. “Don’t say it’s because of the snow. We’ve played in worse weather.”
“I’m just worried about Charlie,” she said. “He’s been really antsy for the past two weeks. Fidgety. Like he always gets —”
“When he’s planning a job,” Jackson said.
She nodded. “If he really did it …” She let her words die away as the wind picked up. A few strands of hair fell into her face, but she didn’t bother brushing them off. She hadn’t come out here to talk about Charlie. Not really.
She had spent the past few hours trying to figure out what to say to Jackson about Saturday night, but now that she was here, nothing sounded good enough. Finally, she blurted, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Gaby shielded her eyes with her hand. The sun was shining off the snow, turning the ground extremely bright. Plus, this way, she didn’t have to look directly at him. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Lynne Thurber’s younger brother, a fourth grader at Gardner Elementary, had lost all his birthday money in a lopsided pickup football game with some boys from Riggins Middle School. Lucky for Lynne, her best friend’s pseudo-boyfriend excelled in retrieving misappropriated items.
“You could just tell Dr. Kelsey that we were scamming Eric Caan and his friends out of their money and video games,” she said. “There’s your alibi right there.”
“I’m guessing that wouldn’t go over so well with either of our parents.”
“But you wouldn’t be facing suspension.”
“No, I’d just be grounded for the rest of the year. Not exactly apples for apples, but close.” He coughed. “I don’t want to miss the Spring Formal.”
“The formal isn’t until May.”
Jackson grinned. “I’m planning ahead.”
The wind whipped up again, and they both shivered. It was times like this that Jackson wished he really were Gaby’s boyfriend, because he was sure that a boyfriend would know what to do when his girlfriend was cold. Was he supposed to offer her his coat, even though she was already wearing one? His gloves? Was he supposed to wrap his arms around her to keep her warm?
“I should go,” she said, pushing off the fence. “Mom and Dad are going to want me home early today.”
Jackson followed her out of the gate, though she was walking much faster than he. He had hoped working in the garden would help clear his mind — help him sort out the facts of the prank. See the angles. But he remained as confused as before, if not more so.
But there was one pattern…. A lack of alibis for all his friends.
Gaby stopped in front of the school and waited for Jackson to catch up. “What’s going on in that head of yours? The Infamous Jackson Greene is not known for walking so slowly. Especially in weather like this.”
That made him laugh a little. “It’s just … I don’t have a legitimate alibi, and neither do Charlie and Bradley. If Hash and Megan don’t have one either …”
“What? You think someone’s trying to frame you guys?”
“Maybe,” he said. “When you go home, can you poke around and see if you can find Charlie’s messenger bag?”