Jackson was quiet for a few moments as he jotted down some notes. He knew Rob and Thom were staring at what he wrote, probably trying to decipher his code. They had a better shot at acing Mrs. Clark’s exam.
“Do those fancy notes of yours say how much time I have to think this over?” he asked as he flipped his notebook shut.
“Twenty-four hours,” Thom said, not even looking at his arm.
“It’s the least we can do,” Rob added. “Partner.”
As Charlie de la Cruz biked to school early on Wednesday morning, he replayed his conversation with Jackson the night before over and over in his head. Jackson had described finding Rob and Thom in the library. He told him about Thom’s arm, their failing grades, their pride in the blackmail scheme.
Then Jackson had ordered him to contact the rest of the crew and organize a meeting at Hashemi’s shed. Like Charlie was his personal assistant. Like everyone should always obey the marvelous Jackson Greene.
So Charlie kept cool and did as he was instructed — except he moved the meeting from Hashemi’s shed to the newsroom. There’d be no Jackson Greene swooping in to save the day, at least not this morning.
Charlie locked his bike in the otherwise empty rack, then entered the school. Most teachers hadn’t arrived yet, which was why he chose such an early meeting time. The newsroom was down the hallway from Mrs. Clark’s room, and he figured it was worth doing a little recon work after the meeting — just in case they really did decide to steal the exam.
He opened the door to the social studies wing, then paused as Mr. Hutton pushed an empty janitorial cart down the hallway toward him. Charlie stuck his hands in his pockets and folded his fingers around his laminated Maplewood Herald pass. The hallways were usually off-limits before school, but as a member of the newspaper staff, he was able to come and go to the newsroom as he pleased.
“Kind of early to be at school, Charlie,” the custodian said.
“Editorial meeting. The news never sleeps, you know.”
“Got a pass?” he asked.
Charlie flashed his badge. He hoped Mr. Hutton was finished with his work on this side of the building — Charlie hadn’t bothered with creating badges for anyone else.
Apparently satisfied, the custodian started to walk away. “For what it’s worth, I know you and Jackson are good kids,” he said. “There’s no way you two could be responsible for all this flooding.”
Me and Jackson, Charlie thought as he entered the newsroom. Of course. It had been four months since the Election Job. Aside from the occasional video game, he and Jackson hardly hung out anymore. They certainly hadn’t planned another job. So why did everyone still want to lump them together?
Bradley was the first to arrive. When Hashemi and Megan entered a few minutes after, they offered Charlie slight nods but continued past him to the table, both looking at something on Hashemi’s new tablet.
Charlie began to close the door. “Before we start, I think I should apologize for —”
“Hey, guys,” Jackson said, barging into the room. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Jackson!” Bradley yelled, jumping out of his chair. He went to high-five him but missed, hitting Jackson’s face instead. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“It’s okay,” Jackson said, blinking. “I never used my left eye that much anyway.”
Bradley grinned. “I’m glad you’re here. Had a change of heart?”
Jackson stopped wiping his eye. “What?”
“When Charlie texted us last night to set up the meeting, he told us that you were sitting this one out.”
“There must have been a misunderstanding,” Jackson said as he glanced at Charlie. “I just thought we were meeting at Hashemi’s shed. Good thing I got up extra early.”
Although Jackson was smiling, Charlie could see the anger in his eyes. But he wasn’t going to let Jackson waltz back in and hijack his crew. “I have it under control,” he whispered to Jackson.
“No, you don’t.” Jackson pushed past him and hoisted himself on top of the editor’s desk at the front of the room. Charlie’s desk. “Okay, I assume that Charlie’s brought you all up to speed on my meeting with Rob and Thom.”
“Yeah,” Megan said. “Basically, if we don’t steal the American history exam by next Friday, we’re doomed.”
“We’ve been in worse situations,” Charlie said. He thought about sitting on the desk next to Jackson, but instead stood to his right. “We can find a way out of this. I have a —”
“Maybe we should go to Mrs. Clark,” Hashemi said. The MATE’s blue-tinted screen illuminated his face. “Pulling the Great Greene Heist was one thing, but stealing a test — especially one of her tests — is impossible.”
Charlie’s fingers tensed at the mention of the heist. “Nothing’s impossible,” he said.
“Maybe we should talk to Dr. Kelsey,” Bradley chimed in. “He’s not so mad about the heist anymore.” He crinkled his nose. “Well, except when Keith’s father calls. Or Gaby enters the office. Or —”
“Guys, I know you’re worried,” Jackson said. “I am too. This is really risky. But you know how Dr. Kelsey feels about us. He’s been waiting four months to blame us for something, and now he has his chance.”
“But the video is doctored,” Bradley said. “We can prove it’s a fake.”
“Yes. Eventually,” Megan said. “But not before Dr. Kelsey makes us withdraw from the Battle of the Robots.”
“And not before he suspends us for two weeks and bans us from any school activities,” Jackson added. “Knowing Kelsey, that’s the tip of the iceberg.”
“So you have a plan?” Hashemi asked.
Charlie watched his crew lean in and look up at Jackson.
Jackson grinned. “I’m working on it.”
“Are we really going to steal the test?” Megan asked. “Like, for real?”
“Depends on how you define we.”
“Maybe we can rig the scoring machine, like we did during the Great Greene Heist,” Bradley said. “Maybe —”
Charlie slammed his fist on the desk. “Can you please stop calling it the Great Greene Heist?”
Hashemi cocked his head. “But … you’re the one who started calling it that in the first place.”
Charlie took a step backward. “Yeah … well … that was before —”
“Mrs. Clark grades her tests by hand,” Jackson continued, speaking over him. “So no, we can’t rig the machine like we did during the … Election Job. But like I said, I’m working on a plan.”
“Well, I have a few ideas too,” Charlie said, puffing his chest.
Jackson crossed his arms. “Does your plan involve you getting everyone caught on video?”
Charlie frowned. “What?”
“There are four cameras between the newsroom and the front doors,” Jackson said. “And since I’m sure you’ve done your homework, you know that each camera has a built-in flash drive that can record up to twenty-four hours of video.”
Charlie peeled off his scarf — the room had suddenly become unbearably hot. “But Hashemi and Megan said that the NVR wouldn’t record without the hard drive. And since the cameras are Ethernet-powered, they have to be plugged into the NVR to work.” He looked at Megan and Hashemi. “Right?”
Megan’s face had become long and serious. “Correct. Without the hard drive, you can’t manipulate video, watch all sixteen cameras in real time, or run any normal NVR operations. But that doesn’t have anything to do with the cameras themselves.”
“Think of it as a passive electrical system,” Hashemi added. “It doesn’t matter if the NVR is operational or not. As long as it’s powered on and the cameras are plugged in, they will record to their flash drives.”
Bradley slumped in his seat. “So what does all this mean? We’re not in trouble for meeting in here, are we?”
“Technically, no students should be meeting without the faculty sponsor present, but no one ever really enforces that rule. That gets you and Ch
arlie off the hook, since you’re Maplewood Herald staff members,” Jackson said. “Lucky for the rest of us, I’ve filled out the paperwork for us to join as well — backdated by two days.” He pulled a stack of forms from his book bag. “All I need is your signatures.”
Hashemi looked at his paper. “How did you figure out our school ID numbers?” he asked, squinting at the form. “I don’t even have my number memorized.”
“Let’s not waste any time with frivolous details,” Jackson said. “Just remember, if anyone asks, we were meeting about an exposé on the break-in. Not exactly a lie, if you think about it.”
Megan scribbled her signature on her form and passed it back to Jackson. “Good going, Charlie. You want to leave a forged notebook lying around for someone to steal too? You’re already on a roll.”
“But I … How was I supposed to know —”
“Rule Number Twelve,” Jackson said. “You’ve got to do your homework.”
Everyone was quiet for a few seconds before Bradley raised his hand and said, “Rule Number Twelve. Is that from the Greene Code of Conduct or the de la Cruz Rules of Engagement?”
“The de la what?” Jackson asked.
If not for the chair in his path, Charlie would have taken another step back. “It’s … It’s nothing.”
“So now what do we do?” Megan asked. Although the question was lobbed to the group, she was looking directly at Jackson.
Jackson pulled out his notebook. “Megan, I need you and Hash to figure out who forged the video. Whoever he or she is, they’re good, which should limit the pool.”
“For sure, no one at Maplewood did it,” Megan said. “You’re looking at the only two students here who could pull off a forgery that good, that quickly.”
Hashemi blushed. “Thanks. I was —”
“Actually, I was talking about me and Bradley.” She nudged Hashemi. “Photo and video manipulation isn’t exactly your specialty. And no, designing app icons for the MATE doesn’t count.”
As Hash, Megan, and Bradley laughed, Jackson took them in. It really had been a while since he’d hung out with the crew. His friends. Hash and Megan sat close together — closer than they needed to. He wondered if they were more than just friends. Was it possible that Hash had the guts to kiss a girl, but he didn’t?
Megan’s laughter finally tapered off. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking — whoever did this has to be a whiz at graphic design and computers. There’s only a handful of kids our age who can pull that off.”
Hashemi looked at her. “You think it’s Kayla Hall, don’t you?”
She nodded. “She has the skills. She could probably recruit a few friends to help with the quick turnaround on the video manipulation.” Then, quieter, she added, “And she has the motivation.”
“Does she have a grudge against you two?” Jackson asked.
Hashemi tapped the MATE to wake it up. “Kayla’s the president of the Robotics Club at Riggins. Megan beat her at the Battle of the Robots last year.” He showed them a photo of a tank-shaped robot split in half, its red and white circuits spilled all over the floor. “The officials inspected her machine after receiving a complaint about her alleged used of contraband components. She was eventually barred from competing for two years.”
“Were you the one who tipped off the officials?” Bradley asked Megan.
“Of course not,” Megan said. “But I may have mentioned it in passing to the guys at Great Oaks Prep. They actually turned her in.”
“So she’s got a grudge. And she’s got some free time on her hands. And she’s a genius,” Jackson said. “Anything else we should know?”
Megan picked at her thumbnail. “I may have sent her a nasty email or two, rubbing in the win.”
“Well, I guess we know where you’re starting first.” Jackson made a mark in his notebook. “Bradley, can you try to figure out Mrs. Clark’s testing routine? Maybe she turns in a copy of the scoring guide before the actual exam. Or maybe she uses student helpers. Anything would be helpful. And see if you can borrow a laptop and software from the graphic design guys. Without a bankroll, we’re going to have to shake out our piggy banks and use whatever equipment we can get our hands on.” He turned to Charlie. “And can you —”
“No thanks,” Charlie said. “I’m sure you and the rest of Gang Greene can handle this without me.” He grabbed his books and stormed out the door.
In the silence that followed, Jackson sighed and checked his watch. “Hash, can you text Gaby and ask her to talk to Charlie? She should be at school by now.”
Hashemi typed a quick message on the MATE, then shoved it into his book bag. “You and Charlie are acting just like Kirk and Captain Decker in Star Trek: The Motion Picture,” he said. “Kirk comes back to take command of the Enterprise and makes Decker the second in command.”
“Is that from the new movies?” Bradley asked, grinning.
“You mean the series of movies where they give some cadet barely out of Starfleet command of the best ship in the galaxy?” Megan pretended to gag. “No way.”
“I mean, it’s the twenty-third century,” Hashemi added. “You’d think they’d be smarter than that. If it had been Jean-Luc Picard or Kathryn Janeway, maybe I could see it….”
“You had to get them riled up, didn’t you?” Jackson said to Bradley. “And to be clear, I’m not trying to take anything over. But we’ve got less than ten days to figure a way out of this mess. We have to be organized and we have to be precise. Neither of those are Charlie’s strengths.”
“I’d follow you over Charlie any day,” Megan said. “I hate liars.”
“Megan, we’re con artists. We’re all liars.” Jackson closed his notebook. “And to be fair, I’ve tricked both of you before too.”
Megan paused. “Well, now that you mention it, yeah, you did. And that kind of sucked. But at least it was for a good reason — not to steal some stupid trophy.” She turned to Hashemi. “And didn’t Decker die at the end of that movie?”
Hashemi looked at the door. “Technically, he was only missing in action.”
Serena sat on a bench in the empty atrium, eating an almond-and-flaxseed granola bar and sipping from a container of organic milk. She preferred getting to school early. Once the bell rang, the other students were always in her way, forcing her to dodge their overstuffed book bags and sharp, scaly elbows. They acted like they owned the hallways, just because they were bigger than her.
Serena’s sister, Valencia, was a senior at Shimmering Hills High. She dropped Serena off every morning, even though it made Valencia almost an hour early herself. Valencia used to complain, but now she spent the extra time in the orchestra room practicing her cello. Becoming even more perfect, Serena thought.
Then Charlie de la Cruz burst through the social studies hall double doors. His face was red, and his hands were balled into fists. He didn’t seem to notice Serena as he stomped across the atrium toward the vending machines.
Seconds later, Gaby slipped into the atrium, her phone tight in her hand. She sped up as Charlie started to move away from her. “Charlie, just hold on for a second,” she called after him. “Carlito …”
Charlie stopped. Serena couldn’t see his face, but by the way he was standing — arms crossed, back stiff — she could tell he was upset. Gaby came over and placed her hand on his shoulder.
Then Gaby glanced to her left and noticed Serena. She offered Serena a half wave before taking her brother’s arm and leading him outside.
Serena slurped the last of her milk. It wasn’t odd seeing Charlie at school this early. He often arrived before the other students to work on the newspaper. Gaby often came early as well, usually for some Student Council function. But that tension between them — that was interesting.
A few minutes later, Bradley Boardman, a sixth grader and another member of the news staff, exited the social studies hallway. Then Jackson Greene, Hashemi Larijani, and Megan Feldman entered the atrium, and Serena stopped chewing her granola bar
. Unless those three had joined the Herald in the past couple of days, Serena was sure they had no business being in that hallway.
Like Bradley, they didn’t notice her as they exited the atrium. They were talking too low for her to hear them, but that didn’t matter. She’d seen everything she needed to see.
Gang Greene was back in action.
Jackson tried to pay attention during class, but instead of listening to Mrs. Clark’s soliloquy on the genius of Alexander Hamilton, he kept staring at the back of Rob Richards’s head. Who were Rob and Thom working with? Keith Sinclair? After a weeklong suspension, he had stayed out of trouble. He even worked as an office helper, doing Kelsey’s grunt work in order to remain on the principal’s good side.
No, Keith didn’t make sense. But if not him, who? Victor Cho? Stewart Hogan? Or was it someone else — someone Jackson hadn’t even considered yet?
After the bell rang, Rob sprang from his seat and sped toward Jackson. Thom followed a few steps behind.
“So what did you decide?” Rob asked.
Jackson glanced toward the front of the room. A small group of students waited in line to talk to Mrs. Clark. “Not here,” he said. “Meet me in the hallway. By the stairs.”
Once Rob and Thom left, Jackson caught Hashemi’s eye and quickly shook his head. He wanted to keep Hash and the others away from Rob and Thom as much as possible.
Jackson moved toward the door, slowing as he approached Mrs. Clark’s file cabinet. With all its rust, scuffs, and dents, it looked at least as old as the school. He pretended to look through one of the room’s three windows. Once he was sure the teacher wasn’t watching, he gently pressed the latch and tugged on the handle to the top drawer.
Locked. Not that he expected anything else.
He stepped out of the room. Rob and Thom stood halfway down the hallway … with Charlie. Talking. While surrounded by teachers and other students.
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