The Fourth Stall

by Chris Rylander

  “Okay, okay, let’s just get down to business,” I said, turning on the TV.

  I hit Play and turned up the volume. The movie had lots of explosions and guys rolling around shooting huge guns and lots of slow-motion shots of bullets zooming around. It looked pretty good. But we weren’t there to watch it.

  “Okay, the reason I wanted to hold this meeting is because we need to figure out who the rat is.”

  We all brainstormed for a while and tossed around name after name. We didn’t really get anywhere, especially since Joe and Vince were afraid to accuse each other since they were both sitting right there. But it didn’t matter to me; this meeting was just a cover to distract everybody while Tyrell did his thing.

  “Now then, I guess for the time being we should just lay low, let things cool off before we make our next move.” It had been a half hour of pointless speculation.

  They all nodded whether they agreed or not, and either way I didn’t care.

  I felt really bad lying to them all. It wasn’t like me. But I just needed some time to execute my own plan, to let Tyrell do what he does best. I needed to get to the bottom of this, and I didn’t know who to trust anymore.

  After our discussion we all settled in and tried to watch the movie and have some fun. My face was starting to throb again, but I didn’t want to ask my mom for more Tylenol because then she would bother us. So I just ate some cookies and tried to distract myself with the explosions and whatnot.

  Toward the end of the movie I saw Fred look down at his watch. He jumped up.

  “Oh man! I gotta go now. My mom said she’d pick me up at seven and it’s seven oh five. See you guys later.”

  “Yeah, I better go, too,” Joe said. “I told my friend David that I would hang out with him tonight. I’ve been so busy lately that we haven’t hung out much.”

  “All right, see you tomorrow at morning recess,” I said.

  Vince nodded good-bye and then Joe left. I sometimes forgot that Joe just worked for me. We weren’t his best friends or anything.

  So then it was just Vince and I. We switched it to the Cubs play-off game at 7:15. The best moment of the game was when the Cubs executed a perfect suicide squeeze play. Vince jumped up and yelled and screamed like they’d just won the World Series. He loved the suicide squeeze. If you let him, he would ramble on for hours about how amazing and beautiful it was to watch one perfectly executed.

  “That was the best; did you see that bunt?” Vince asked as he sat back down.

  “Yeah, that was a good one,” I said. “I was just thinking about how amazing it’d be to be at Wrigley to see the Cubs pull off a squeeze in a World Series game.”

  Vince shuddered and his smile disappeared.

  “It’s almost cruel to hope for something so amazing. I’m so excited for the Cubs trip right now it’s like I’m in a reverse coma—a constant state of hyperactivity. Or as my grandma might say, ‘Don’t wash the cat until the raccoon eats his glue stick.’”

  I just shook my head at him. I didn’t really get the impression that he was all that excited. Sure, he’d been acting extra cheery all night, but it was like he was just pretending that I hadn’t caught him stealing money and lying to me.

  “Anyways, I just thought of a good one: Who was the first manager to win the World Series for the Cubs?” Vince asked.

  “Come on, Vince. Don’t you remember that I’m obsessed with Cubs World Series trivia? It was Frank Chance, and they beat the Detroit Tigers. And I’ll even go ahead and say that their final record was one hundred seven wins, forty-five losses and that you should try a little harder next time,” I said.

  “Careful what you ask for, Mac,” Vince said with a cheesy smile.

  “Okay, whatever,” I said.

  We watched the game in silence for a few minutes.

  “Do you think it’s Great White?” Vince asked suddenly.

  “I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see, I guess. If it is him, he’ll slip up eventually.”

  I was careful not to sound too complacent. I still felt bad about keeping my Tyrell plan from him, but that’s what this had come to.

  After the game we watched Cartoon Network for a little bit. Some show was on about a box of French fries, a meatball, and a milk shake who all talked and fought crime. We didn’t talk much, which wasn’t like us at all.

  “I think I’d better go,” Vince said after the show.

  “Oh okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then, right?” I said.

  “Sure.”

  He headed upstairs and I heard the front door open and close a few moments later. After he left, I realized something that bothered me so badly, I barely slept that night. Together that night we’d watched the Cubs win a play-off game to take a commanding 2–0 lead over the Phillies in the NLCS, but it had felt more like we were watching a funeral. The Cubs almost never made the play-offs. This was the first time they’d made it this far in our lives. And usually when we watched even a regular-season Cubs game together, there was yelling and shouting and cursing and then we’d both do a really horrible job singing “Go Cubs Go” with the crowd on TV when they won. But that night, other than after the suicide squeeze the Cubs had pulled off early in the game, we’d basically just sat there and watched like zombies. It became very clear to me right then that there was a whole lot more falling apart than just our business.

  The first sign that something was seriously wrong the next day was that Vince didn’t come to school. I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but I knew it probably wasn’t good. And as much as I wished I was wrong about that, what unfolded the rest of the day proved me to be more right than I’d ever wanted to be before.

  It started during morning recess. I was sitting in my office with my face in my hands trying to figure out just where everything had gone wrong. How had I gotten myself mixed up in this mess?

  Eventually I looked up.

  “Holy . . . ! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” I yelled.

  “Sorry, Mac,” Tyrell said.

  He was seated across from me in my office. The kid is amazing. I had no idea how he got inside the office and into the chair without Joe, Fred, or me noticing. I guess that’s why he’s the best.

  “It’s okay. It’s what you do, I guess. So what’s up?”

  “I have information for you,” he said.

  “Already?”

  “I work fast, Mac. You know that.”

  I nodded. I guess I did know that. He is a darn fine spy.

  “What did you find?”

  “Okay, Mac. You’re really not going to like what I found. It’s pretty shocking,” he said.

  I nodded and motioned for him to continue. What could be more shocking at this point than finding out you have a mole on the inside selling you out and that your best friend has been stealing money?

  “Well, everybody you asked me to monitor has checked out so far with no suspicious activity or unusual affiliations. Except for one person.”

  I had a bad feeling about this. I had really expected him to say Joe. Or maybe that’s just what I wanted him to say. Not that I would’ve liked hearing that, but Joe was the only one who made sense anymore.

  “Who is it?” I asked warily.

  “It’s Vince,” he said. My heart started thumping against the inside of my rib cage as if it was trying to bust out of jail. “Now, it might not mean anything, but I caught him conversing with a person of interest.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  Tyrell started digging in his bag while shaking his head. “I’m not really sure. I’ve got my theories, but I’ve never actually seen this kid before. Why don’t you take a look first?” He took a little video camera the size of a deck of cards from his canvas messenger bag and laid it on my desk. “Hit Play.”

  “Wow, this is really clear,” I said.

  “It’s the Rear Window Edition P-Tom that I got for my birthday.”

  The video was zoomed in pretty close so it would have been hard to
tell exactly where the footage was taking place had I not been there myself at least a thousand times before. It was the playground near Vince’s trailer. It was the very same playground in which Vince and I had first started our business. Now it was pretty rundown. The sandbox was a dirt-and-weed box. Only one seat actually remained on the swing set, and it creaked and croaked like a ten-pack-a-day lunch lady asking you for your lunch card. But the playground was still unmistakable.

  I also recognized the kid talking to Vince near the old playground slide right away, despite the baseball hat sitting on top of his shaved head. I would never forget that face for the rest of my life. It was Staples.

  The video footage on the little screen showed Vince standing with his back to the rusted slide. Staples stood close to him, and appeared to be the one doing most of the talking. At the end Staples held out what looked to be a roll of cash. Vince looked hesitant, but then finally he reached out and took the money. The last bit showed Staples walking away with a grin on his face and Vince standing at the slide until well after Staples had left. Then Vince stuffed the money into his pocket and walked into his trailer.

  “When was this taken?” I asked, my voice coming out cracked and broken like a scratched CD.

  “This morning around six forty-five,” Tyrell said.

  That would be right around the time Vince would be leaving for school. So had Staples paid him to skip school today? If so, why? Or had the payment been for something else?

  “How did it all play out?” I asked.

  “Well, he left his trailer that morning and headed for his bike. And that’s when the kid in the baseball hat approached him and pulled him aside toward the slide. They spent the next few minutes talking there. Sorry, Mac, but I couldn’t really get close enough to hear what they said. That’s a pretty open place.”

  “That’s okay, Tyrell. You did well,” I said, and slid part of his payment across my desk. He grabbed it, and almost before I could blink, he was gone.

  So Staples visits with Vince this morning and then he’s coincidentally gone today? And he doesn’t even bother to call and tell me that Staples approached him? Or maybe he did call me. I couldn’t be sure because I’d already left my house by 6:45 this morning. It could have been nothing, and it certainly didn’t prove anything definite, but it didn’t look very good either. In fact, it looked downright horrible.

  I doubled over my desk and banged my forehead on its surface.

  “You okay?” Fred called out from his chair in the corner near the first stall.

  I couldn’t even muster a response. This couldn’t possibly mean what it looked like, could it? There was no way Vince was on Staples’s payroll. No way. But what if he was? And if that was true, then what exactly was he doing right now instead of coming to school? And what had the money been for? Was I really this big of a sucker?

  Chapter 21

  At lunch that day I broke a school rule that came with a mandatory three-day in-school suspension if caught. But I didn’t care. This was bigger than a suspension now; it probably always had been, if my hunch was right. And I needed to know immediately if I was right. I just hoped I was wrong.

  I had Joe close up the office and then I snuck around to the front of the school and got my bike. Joe arranged for a distraction to keep the RS on the other side of the school until I could get clear.

  I stayed low and walked my bike to the edge of the parking lot, and then I was off. I pedaled toward home as fast as I could. My butt never even touched the seat, and I made the usual seven-minute bike ride in three minutes. My mom’s car was not in the garage. She must have had to work. Her work schedule was pretty irregular, so I never knew when she did or didn’t work.

  The front and side doors were locked and I didn’t have my key. In my haste, I’d left it in my backpack at the school. I cursed myself for being so stupid as I jogged around to the back of the house. I climbed the tree in our backyard and clambered onto the roof. This is how Vince used to come up to my room until my dad yelled at me once and said Vince could just use the darn front door like a normal person. Except he hadn’t said darn. Even still, I always left my window open in case Vince needed to drop by unexpectedly in the middle of the night or something.

  I crawled across the roof to my bedroom window and noticed right away that it was ajar about an inch. My heart sank. No. No, he wouldn’t do that.

  I opened the window and climbed through it. My shoes felt like they were made of lead. I could barely walk and I almost fell once I was actually inside my room. I opened my closet and knelt next to the false wood panel. I popped it off, set it aside, and reached into the hole.

  There was nothing. I reached up and down and all around, but all I felt was dusty insulation and particleboard. My heart caught in my throat and I couldn’t swallow.

  I scrambled up to my desk and took a flashlight from the top drawer. I went back to the cubbyhole in my closet and got down on my stomach. I shined the light inside. I made a pass over every corner and space that I could find. But all I saw was dust that moved in the flashlight’s yellow beam. There was no mistake about it: The Emergency Fund and the Game Fund had been stolen. Around six thousand dollars was just gone as if it had never even existed. I resisted the urge to puke. The Cubs games, our business, our money, everything I had worked so hard for my whole life was gone in the blink of an eye. And it was probably my best friend who had done it.

  I got up and ran to the bathroom, where I puked out my Cinnamon Toast Crunch, my guts, and, I think, my heart, from the feel of it.

  I still didn’t want to believe it. It felt like someone had just burned down my house with my family still inside and now the arsonist was laughing at me and making snow angels in the ashes. During the bike ride back to school I went over it all again, sure I had missed some key detail that would prove I was crazy and had imagined it all. But it always came back to the same end result. Staples had paid off Vince, and Vince had stolen our Funds. That’s what their meeting had been about this morning; I was sure of it. It explained why Vince had been acting so weird lately.

  That’s also why Vince had not gone to school today. So he could sneak into my room and steal my money. He was the only person who knew where it was hidden besides Fred and Joe, and they had both been at school all day, and the money had been there when I’d left that morning. I knew because I’d checked. I always do—it’s a morning ritual for me. Vince also had had plenty of practice climbing into my bedroom through my unlocked window.

  I knew I would have to confront Vince about it all at some point. Or maybe I would order a hit on him. A hit on my own best friend. I didn’t really like the thought of either of those options.

  But then I realized that it didn’t matter. As I arrived back at school, the truth really set in. My Empire had officially crumbled. I had nothing left at all. All of my money was gone. Joe would probably abandon me once he found out. The bullies wouldn’t work for free. I had no way to pay Tyrell what I owed him. What was left in Tom Petty cash wouldn’t be nearly enough. And it was Vince, my supposed best friend in the world and business manager, who had taken me down, so I didn’t even have anyone to brainstorm with or talk to. I was alone and my business was all but gone.

  Staples had been right. He had dismantled my whole life and I never saw it coming. And that’s why he knew he’d be successful, because he had my right-hand man in his back pocket the entire time. I had been doomed from the start. I could still hardly believe it. The whole thing hurt much worse than the beating PJ and the high schoolers had laid on me a few days before. It hurt on a whole different level. That had been just a pinprick compared to this.

  As I trudged back to class, I couldn’t help but wonder. Maybe I should have just gone to work for Staples? Then Vince and I would still be friends and business partners. We’d still probably be going to the Cubs games. People like Staples never seemed to have these problems. Maybe that was the answer after all.

  I tried to pay attention in class that d
ay, but it was no use. I didn’t really listen to Mr. Skari talking about compounded fractoids or whatever he was babbling on about. And I definitely didn’t write down the assignment or care in the least about trying to work on it. All I could think about was Vince and our business and how it used to be way back in that trailer park sandbox. Those days had never seemed so far away.

  But maybe this was partially my fault. Why else would my best friend betray me like this? Vince had finally fessed up to stealing money, and it had been because his family was in desperate need. And sure, I’d forgiven him, but what else had I done? Nothing. I could have offered him some more money, but I didn’t. And Staples clearly had, and that had been the difference. Staples had offered Vince what he needed more than anything and I didn’t. Had I really driven Vince to this in some way?

  At afternoon recess I met with Joe, Kitten, Great White, Nubby, and Fred. The mood was somber and I think they could tell that something was wrong. It was time to tell them that I had found the traitor. I wasn’t going to say exactly who it was yet, because I thought I should deal with Vince personally first. He was my former best friend, and it was that friendship that had blinded me from the double cross. My belief in my friend had doomed us all. It was my responsibility to deal with Vince, not theirs.

  I also decided to not tell them just yet about my lack of funds either. The longer I could keep them on my side, the better. Though I would obviously have to come clean at some point.

  “I think I’ve found our rat,” I said.

  “Who is it? I’ll kick his bloody arse!” Great White said.

  “If you all meet me here tomorrow morning, I’ll discuss it then. I just wanted to let you all know that we can stop being suspicious of each other. And you should all take the rest of the day off. Go be kids. Have fun. I’ll see you all here tomorrow morning at recess. And Joe?” I added as they filed out.

  “Yeah, Mac?”

  “Make sure you stick pretty close to Fred. Staples may still be gunning for him.”