To Catch a Cheat Page 3

  “Don’t tell me they bought the school off like Keith Sinclair did.”

  Lincoln refocused on Serena. “No — and technically, we don’t know that Mr. Sinclair’s donation had anything to do with Dr. Kelsey reducing Keith’s punishment.”

  “Based on Article —”

  “You don’t have to quote the Honor Code to me, Serena.” He perched himself on the edge of the desk. “I don’t necessarily agree with Dr. Kelsey, but he’s right. Jackson’s dad pointed it out to him. The bag and notebook are circumstantial evidence. He doesn’t have enough proof that Charlie and Jackson flooded the school.”

  She shook her head, making her hoop earrings bounce against her neck. “But they don’t have alibis.”

  “Jackson was at the public library. The staff at the front desk saw him enter and leave. He even reserved a study room. It’s all on a log.”

  Serena began to pace in front of Lincoln. Lincoln was one of the most important students at Maplewood, she thought, at least in terms of his political power. She just didn’t understand why he let himself be everyone’s doormat. Dr. Kelsey’s. Keith’s. And especially Jackson Greene’s. It was like he enjoyed being conned.

  “You know the Inf — you know Jackson Greene could have easily snuck out of that library.” She refused to use Jackson’s silly nickname. “We can’t let him get away with this. He breaks school rules. All. The. Time.” She pushed her hair out of her face. “Don’t you want to catch him? It’d be the greatest case ever for the Honor Board.”

  “That’s not how it works,” Lincoln said as he walked around Serena. “Our job isn’t to catch thieves. We catch cheats.”

  “Aren’t they the same?”

  “Depends on the cheat.” He paused at the door. “Look, we don’t police the Honor Code. We rule on violations,” he said. “And for what it’s worth, Jackson Greene does way more good than bad for Maplewood.”

  Maybe it isn’t our job to police the Honor Code, Serena thought as she walked to her desk to grab her books. But that doesn’t mean we can’t do it.

  As Serena Bianchi exited Mr. Pritchard’s classroom, she nearly marched into Gabriela de la Cruz. Gaby swerved just in time to avoid a collision, mumbled, “Sorry,” then continued around the corner. She burst into the Maplewood Herald student office, empty except for Charlie and Bradley.

  Charlie looked up. “What’s wrong?” he asked. The latest edition of the newspaper lay on the table in front of him.

  Gaby grabbed her brother’s arm skin, pinched, and twisted.

  “Ouch! Gaby!” He pulled his arm free. “What are you doing?”

  “I’ve been waiting to do that since yesterday!” She pinched his other arm. “The only reason I didn’t yell at you before is because Jackson asked me to wait.”

  “Gaby! Stop!” Charlie broke away and slid backward. “Why are you —”

  “I know about the notebook! I was saving that for his birthday!”

  Bradley began packing up his books. “Maybe I should go. I can work on these graphics in the art room.”

  “No, you need to hear this,” Gaby said. “Go on, tell him, Charlie. Tell him how you forged Jackson’s handwriting in the notebook. How you tricked the crew into casing Riggins with you.”

  Bradley frowned. “I don’t understand….”

  “He lied to you,” Gaby said. “He stole from me, he forged Jackson’s handwriting, and he lied to get you to go along with him.” She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m just trying to figure out how the notebook and your messenger bag ended up in the bathroom this weekend. You’d better speak up now if you know more about the flooding than you’re letting on.”

  Charlie held up his hands like he was giving up. “I promise, I didn’t know anything about the prank until Monday morning,” he said. “My bag and the notebook went missing right before winter break. I didn’t worry too much about them — I had already shown the notebook to the guys, and they’d agreed to case Riggins with me based on it. I figured I’d left the stuff at Hashemi’s shed or Bradley’s house. But after Kelsey showed them to me yesterday, I started thinking that maybe they were stolen from my locker.”

  “Back up a second,” Bradley said. “You forged Jackson’s handwriting? Was the entire Trophy Heist a lie?”

  “No. Not a lie.” Charlie ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, maybe the part where I copied Jackson’s handwriting was a bit misleading, and maybe the plan didn’t account for all of the school’s new upgrades, but I would have eventually come up with a revised strategy for sneaking in. I just needed to do a little reconnaissance first.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Gaby said. “You know the Trophy Heist is suicide.”

  “I’ve snuck into Riggins before.”

  “Yeah, the Goat in a Blanket. I was there with you and Jackson, remember?” She shook her head. “But that was two years ago, before they installed all those electric key pads and motion sensors.”

  “I just can’t believe you lied to us about the notebook,” Bradley said.

  “You’re right — I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry,” Charlie said. “But if we’re being honest, you all would never have agreed to scope out the school if you knew it was my plan, not Jackson’s.”

  Bradley paused to consider this.

  “Stop trying to guilt him,” Gaby said to her brother. “You’re the one in the wrong here, not Bradley.”

  Charlie shrugged. “Why are we even talking about this? It all worked out okay. No one got hurt or caught or in trouble. Totally harmless.”

  “That’s what you think.” Gaby unlocked her phone and queued up the same video that Jackson had shown Hashemi and Megan the day before. She hit PLAY.

  After a few seconds, Bradley asked, “Why are Megan and Hashemi sneaking into the girls’ bathroom?” His eyes widened. “Wait — is that me?”

  “Don’t you remember? You and the others flooded the school on Saturday,” Gaby said.

  Charlie leaned closer to the screen. “That’s impossible. We weren’t anywhere near Maplewood on Saturday night.”

  “I know. But this video says otherwise.” After it played through, Gaby returned her phone to her pocket. “You should talk to Jackson about this.”

  “No way,” Charlie said, standing up. “I can handle it.”

  “Yeah, because you’ve done a brilliant job of managing your crew so far.”

  Bradley raised his hand, but after neither Charlie nor Gaby acknowledged him, he dropped it. “Maybe we should hear what Jackson has to say. Rule Number Eleven: Explore all options and possibilities before you make a decision.”

  Gaby frowned. “ ‘Rule Number Eleven’?”

  Bradley looked at Charlie, then Gaby. “Yeah, in … the de la Cruz Rules of Engagement.”

  Gaby rolled her eyes. “You really are a thief, aren’t you?”

  “Jackson’s code had a few gaps,” Charlie said. “And he didn’t seem to be using it.”

  “Well, Jackson’s involved now, whether you like it or not. He’s being framed too. Whoever is behind this wants to meet with him this afternoon.”

  Charlie sank back in his seat. If Dr. Kelsey found out about that video, Charlie could wave his job as editor of the Herald good-bye. “Who would want to frame us?”

  Bradley began counting off. “Keith Sinclair, Stewart Hogan, Victor Cho, maybe even the Honor Board. And of course, Dr. Kelsey,” he said. “You have to admit, we made a lot of enemies during the Great Greene Heist.”

  “You don’t have to keep calling it that. The Election Job is just fine,” Charlie said. “What time is Jackson’s meeting?” he asked. “I’ll meet him after school and —”

  “He said he was going alone,” Gaby said. Her brother opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Don’t start. Believe me, I tried to convince Jackson to let someone go with him. But he was asked to go alone, so that’s what he wants to do.”

  But it’s my crew now, Charlie thought.

  “I should go to the studio,”
Bradley said. “Mr. Jonas will be waiting on me.”

  Charlie punched Bradley on the shoulder and offered him a small smile. Bradley didn’t smile back. “Hey, I am sorry for tricking you. And getting you into this mess,” Charlie said. “I’ll figure something out.”

  Gaby waited until Bradley left the room before turning toward her brother. “Proud of yourself?”

  Charlie frowned at her. “Why are you even here? You aren’t involved in this. This is between me, Jackson, and the rest of the crew.”

  “You’re my brother, and Jackson’s my …” Gaby tugged her ponytail as her face reddened. “I’m involved.” She sat down across from him and glanced at the newspaper. Bradley had drawn the illustration for the lead article. “And it’s kind of my fault that Jackson doesn’t have an alibi on Saturday.”

  Charlie nodded. “I heard about Vizzini’s Challenge. Nice job. How’d you sneak the faulty joysticks into Eric’s house?”

  “UPS. A Christmas gift from his dear aunt Maureen.”

  “And you guys actually taught yourselves how to play Ultimate Fantasy IV with broken joysticks?”

  “What else were we supposed to do over the winter break?”

  He shrugged. “I’m just surprised that you didn’t tell me.”

  “I’m sorry. Jackson didn’t want anyone to know he was pulling another con. He thought the crew might want in, and he wanted to keep the team as small as possible.”

  Of course they would want to be involved, Charlie thought. He’s Jackson Greene.

  “Anyway, you seemed pretty busy yourself. You know, with all the planning you were doing for the Trophy Heist.” She crossed her arms. “Also, now would be a good time to apologize about the notebook.”

  He smiled. “I’m sorry. I’ll replace it.”

  “I just don’t understand why you’d want to pull a job like that. You don’t even care about football.”

  “The only reason they stole the trophy is because we stole their mascot first.”

  “So what? Why risk breaking into a school over a trophy that no one’s thought about for two years?”

  Because Samuel Greene said it was impossible, he wanted to say. Because Jackson’s too scared to try it. Because nobody will think I’m Jackson’s sidekick anymore if I pull it off.

  Because I’ll be the best.

  Instead, he said, “I know Jackson didn’t decide to help Lynne’s brother on his own. You convinced him to do it, didn’t you?”

  Gaby tensed. “Yes, but I didn’t trick him —”

  “I know. I’m not accusing you of doing anything wrong. But tell me the truth. How did it feel, pulling the con with him?” He grinned as he picked up the newspaper and folded it in half. “I know you liked it.”

  Gaby rolled her eyes and turned toward the door. But she wasn’t mad at Charlie.

  She just didn’t want him to see the smile on her face.

  “So what’s with all the love for libraries?” Samuel Greene asked as he pulled up in front of the Shimmering Hills Library on Tuesday afternoon. After Jackson didn’t respond, he put the car into park. “You okay? You’ve been quiet the entire trip.”

  Jackson nodded toward the radio. “Just trying to ignore that noise you keep playing every time we get into the car.”

  Samuel turned down the volume. He had been introduced to free jazz during his first semester at the University of Pennsylvania, and insisted on playing either Ornette Coleman or Pharaoh Sanders every chance he got during his semester break. “I know it’s a little sophisticated —”

  “Sophisticated? He’s playing a plastic saxophone.”

  “Stop changing the subject. Something’s up,” he said. “Look, if you’re too scared to kiss Gaby, you can always —”

  “I’m not scared!” Jackson said. “I’m waiting for the right opportunity. Anyway, how old were you when you had your first kiss?”

  Samuel actually looked a bit ashamed. “Oh, um … eleven. But I was a risk taker. Totally unlike you.”

  Jackson leaned against the headrest. He wished his brother had never told him about his stupid Rules of Romance. He knew he should ignore them, but every time he thought about Gaby — and how perfect he wanted that first kiss to be — his mind kept going back to Samuel’s list. Make sure it’s private. Always carry a box of mints. Don’t forget to close your eyes. Wait for the right opening. “I’m not stressed out about that,” he said. “I have an important meeting.”

  Samuel pointed at the notebook poking out of the top of Jackson’s coat pocket. “I thought you had retired that thing.”

  “You never know when you’ll need to write something down.”

  “Jackson —”

  “Don’t start.” He glanced at a large box of watches in the backseat. “You don’t have any business lecturing me about giving up cons.”

  “That’s just a little side project. Something to keep me busy until I head back to Penn next week.” Samuel pushed up his shirtsleeve, showing off his watch. “Want one? I’ll give you a good deal.”

  “Um, no thanks.”

  “They look almost real. Just don’t get them wet. The bands will turn your arm green.”

  “I hope they at least keep time correctly. I’ll be finished in thirty minutes.” Jackson opened the car door. “Or you could give me your cell phone and I could call you at home when I’m ready.”

  Samuel turned the music back up. Jackson resisted the urge to cover his ears. “Can’t give you the phone,” Samuel said. “It’s not really mine.”

  “You stole it?”

  “I repurposed it,” he said. “The teaching assistant it belonged to only used it to stream pirated movies and text his girlfriends — including Carletta, my lab partner. I figured both she and the phone could do better.”

  “Don’t be late,” Jackson said before closing the door.

  Samuel rolled down the window. “Have fun with all the studying, or whatever you’re doing.” His smile faded. “And Jackson — be safe.”

  Jackson’s watch beeped six o’clock as he climbed the steps to the front door. It was almost too fitting, holding the meeting in the very library that he had snuck out of on Saturday evening. He spent a few seconds taking in the surroundings, trying to note anything or anyone that seemed out of place. It looked like a normal Tuesday.

  Or maybe he was just rusty.

  He worked his way to the second floor, then through the maze of shelves to the north end of the building. This section of the floor was filled with partitioned tables and small study rooms that patrons could reserve. The rooms usually smelled like cat urine and moldy bread — and the glass windows offered no real privacy — but they were soundproof.

  Jackson’s mouth dropped open as he peered into the last room in the row. He slowly opened the door. “You two are behind this?” he asked.

  Sitting smugly on the other side of the table were Rob Richards and Thom Jordan. Although they weren’t related, most students thought they were brothers — they shared the same bland facial features, slight builds, and slimy dispositions.

  Rob smirked. “What? Didn’t think we had it in us?”

  “You guys aren’t exactly known for your intricate planning skills. And you could have saved us all a trip if you’d just talked to me after history.” Jackson shut the door and sat down in the chair across from them. It felt too low, but there was no way for him to adjust it.

  “Some things don’t need to be discussed at school,” Rob said before nudging Thom. “Let’s get this over with.” Thom rolled up his sleeve and glanced at the blue ink scrawled on his arm. Rob rolled his eyes. “You took notes?” he asked.

  “Didn’t want to forget anything.” Thom read his arm to himself, his lips moving slightly, then looked up. “So first I’m supposed to thank you for showing up.”

  “You’re not supposed to tell him what you’re going to do. Just — oh, never mind.” Rob yanked Thom’s arm toward him and read the notes himself. “Thank you for coming, Jackson,” he said, his voice
monotone. “And thank you for showing up alone.”

  “Why don’t you skip to the part where you tell me why I’m here? Is this revenge or blackmail? Or both?” Jackson played with the end of his tie, letting it flap against the table. “Maybe I’m mistaken, but I don’t remember doing anything to you guys.”

  “You haven’t,” Thom said. “This is …” He paused dramatically. “Business.” He smiled. “Like that? It wasn’t even in the notes.”

  Rob gritted his teeth. “I should have come by myself,” he mumbled. “Okay, here’s the deal. The American history exam is next week. If we don’t ace it — and I mean really ace it — Mrs. Clark will flunk us. We’ll have to repeat the class in summer school.”

  “When you say ‘ace it,’ you mean you have to get an A?” Jackson asked.

  “More like an A-plus,” Rob replied. “A high A-plus.”

  Jackson pulled his notebook from his pocket. “So you want me to help you cheat during the test next week.”

  “No,” Rob said. “We want you to steal the test so we can memorize the answers beforehand.”

  Jackson blinked a few times, waiting for them to laugh. They didn’t. “Are you guys serious?”

  They nodded.

  “You’re crazy. There’s no way I’m doing that.”

  “Come on,” Thom said, looking at his notes. “Are you telling me that the Infamous Jackson Greene is afraid?”

  Jackson wanted to grab Thom’s arm and look at it himself, if only to get the meeting over with. “Goading me isn’t going to work. I’m out of the business.”

  “I’m not sure Eric Caan and the guys from Riggins would agree,” Rob said.

  Jackson shook his head. No way Rob and Thom are smart enough to pull off something like this. Not by themselves….

  “Who’s really behind this?” he asked. “Eric? Keith?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Rob said, a wide smile spreading across his face.

  “You know I can eventually prove that the video is a fake,” Jackson said.

  “Yes, but ‘eventually’ is a very long time,” Rob said. “And do you really want to take that chance with Dr. Kelsey?” He leaned back in his chair. “So that’s the offer. The exam for the video. Do we have a deal?”