The Fourth Stall (20 page)

Chapter 26

A
fter driving in silence for a few minutes, Staples took out his phone.

“Yeah, PJ. I need you to meet me out at the Yard. We’ve got something to take care of.”

I heard PJ’s muffled reply but couldn’t make out the words.

“I don’t care who’s over at your house. This is more important than any girl, you idiot. Now get the other three and get out here!” I couldn’t be sure, but behind it all I thought I heard uncertainty or maybe even fear in Staples’s voice.

So we were going to the Yard. The Yard is this vacant dirt lot a few miles out of town where teenagers go to scare themselves to death on Halloween and drink themselves passed-out on other Saturday nights. Vince’s brother had told us about it. It’s full of junk and weeds and old cars and nobody cares enough about it to ever go out there and clean up. As far as I know, nobody even knows who owns the land. Rumor was that they were going to build a bunch of houses out there but had to stop because the land is supposedly haunted. I guess when they started digging up the land, a bunch of bad stuff happened. Like, the machines stopped working and it rained a lot, but it rained only out in the Yard and nowhere else. Also, supposedly accidents kept happening and the workers were getting hurt and hearing voices and stuff. I never did believe those stories. Still, you couldn’t have paid me to go out to the Yard alone in the middle of the night.

I did think it was fitting that I would probably end up haunting the place myself pretty soon. It was partially my fault; this was the business I’d chosen. But I wasn’t ready to just give up, not by a long shot.

I shifted in my seat.

“Don’t try anything.” Staples said. “Stop moving so much.”

After a few more minutes he turned the car on to a gravel road. Then after about a hundred feet he turned into a massive dirt lot. There was garbage littered all around, and a few abandoned cars rested under some trees on the far side of the dirt clearing. We were at the Yard. It looked just like I’d heard: a stretch of land that had been leveled for construction years ago and then was just abandoned overnight. Maybe those ghost rumors weren’t just rumors after all.

Staples got out of the car. He opened my door, pulled me out, and dragged me across the hard, hot dirt by my foot. He stopped about thirty feet away from the car and dropped my leg. I was pretty sure my back had gotten all scratched up, but I was so scared I barely noticed.

“What do you have to say now, Christian?” He smirked.

“Nice car,” I said, figuring that going out a smart-mouth would be much cooler than as a whimpering crybaby.

Staples didn’t get mad, though. Instead he laughed as he sat down on an old tire. I was just starting to realize that he laughed a lot.

We waited in silence for a while. I sat on the ground and squinted up at some clouds. Maybe he wouldn’t kill me after all. I mean, that would be pretty ridiculous. Then again, what else could happen? One thing was sure: I was on my own. None of my crew knew where I was and I had no way to tell them. Even if they did call the cops, they’d never find us out here.

Eventually PJ’s black Honda came crackling into the Yard. PJ and the other three high school kids climbed out and walked over to us.

“Jeez, Staples, what is this?” PJ said, sounding a little annoyed and shocked.

“I’ve caught us a little troublemaker! He tried to blackmail me, and now we’re going to make him pay,” Staples said.

“You kidnapped a little kid?” said one of the teenagers, laughing. But he didn’t really sound all that amused.

Staples shrugged.

“What are you going to do with him?” PJ asked.

“You mean, what are
we
going to do with him, right?” Staples asked with a glare so dark that his eyes were like two black holes.

“Uh, yeah, sure, whatever . . .” PJ said, sounding nervous.

“Are you going soft on me, PJ?” Staples asked. “Huh? You had no problem beating him up after he kicked you. Am I supposed to just sit here and do nothing when he goes after me? Is that how it is? You know what’s in this for me; I can’t let him do that.”

I wondered what Staples had meant by that. What didn’t I know about his business that was so important to him?

Staples stood up and walked over to PJ. I thought he was going to punch him, and I think PJ did, too, because he flinched. But Staples just slapped him across the back like they were old friends.

“Come on, man!” Staples said with a big grin. “You’re still in this with me, right?”

PJ hesitated. I couldn’t really see from my angle, but I think Staples gave him a look that pleaded for agreement. Staples had usually seemed so in control, but now he was acting almost desperate.

“Yeah, you’re right,” PJ finally said.

“All right, that’s my boy!” Staples said, punching his arm. PJ winced in pain. “Just remember who pays for your car’s upgrades and your girlfriend’s necklaces and stuff, right?”

PJ nodded and tried to laugh.

Staples turned to face me. He was still smiling.

“I guess it’s about that time, Christian,” he said, walking over to me. “What do you say we get this show on the road?”

“Actually, I could stand to wait a little bit,” I said.

He laughed. Then he said, “Oh, Christian. I really did like you, you know? You’re a funny kid. We maybe even could have been friends.”

He loomed over me, looking like the devil himself. I think he was waiting for me to say something else. I just looked up at him with the meanest glare I could manage.

“No last words? Just a nasty look?” he asked.

I stayed silent.

“Okay, then, suit yourself,” he said as he cracked his knuckles. It sounded like bones snapping. I winced as he cracked each finger one by one.

I didn’t really like where this whole thing was headed.

Chapter 27

S
taples looked down at me for a few moments. The sun was almost directly behind his head, and his face just appeared as a black silhouette. Even though I couldn’t see it, I was pretty sure he was smiling. Then he reached down and grabbed the collar of my shirt and lifted me into the air.

I twisted around to see if his posse was really going to let him do this, and that’s when I saw perhaps the greatest sight I’ve ever seen. There was a bike gang headed our way down the gravel road. The bikes may have been pedal bicycles and not huge chopper motorcycles, and they were ridden by a bunch of kids instead of big muscular dudes with tattoos and black leather, but to me it was all the same at that point.

The caravan consisted of six riders. In the lead was a really little kid on a small bike. As they drew nearer, I was finally able to make out who it was: Fred. Fred was leading the charge, and behind him rode Vince, Joe, Nubby, Great White, and Kitten.

Staples dropped me to the ground and turned to face the newcomers.

“What the . . .”

Everybody turned as the six bikes skidded to a stop in quick succession on the dirt. It was really cool as the dirt sprayed up in front of them. Then Nubby, the last one to stop, accidentally went too far and his front wheel hit Joe’s bike, and he toppled off and sprawled onto the ground headfirst. It kind of ruined the moment a little bit. The four high school kids laughed, but Staples just stared as Nubby quickly climbed back to his feet.

“What do we have here? A dork convention?” one of the high school kids said, and then laughed. Nobody else laughed with him.

I think they might have been too busy warily eyeing what I had just noticed: my six rescuers had weapons strapped across their backs. But as they dismounted their bikes and armed themselves, I noticed that they didn’t exactly bring
real
weapons. Vince, for instance, had a plastic snow shovel. Fred held a long, skinny tree branch out in front of him, but in all honesty, it was just a gnarly twig that would probably shatter if hit by a light breeze. Joe had one of those thick foam noodles that kids sometimes bring to the swimming pool. Nubby held a giant rubber trout with a missing dorsal fin and bite marks all over it as if he’d gotten hungry and chewed on it during the bike ride.

At least Great White had a gun. The only problem was that it was a water gun. I especially questioned his choice of weapon. It’s not like Staples was a witch who’d melt when sprayed with water. But then again, Great White was there to help me, they all were, and that’s what mattered most. Kitten was the only one who looked like he was used to picking out effective weapons. He had a really nasty-looking, rusty lawn rake. That didn’t surprise me; you could always count on Kitten to bring a flamethrower to roast a marshmallow.

My friends lined up in front of us about twenty feet away. Staples stood with PJ and the other three high school kids between my rescuers and me.

The searing sun shone on a classic showdown. I was so proud of my crew. I didn’t know how they’d done it, but they’d somehow found out where I was and then rode out the few miles on their bikes. And now they were apparently ready to fight for me. Even if they weren’t really equipped for it.

The two sides stared at each other. The only noise was that of a few birds singing about whatever they had to sing about. Then finally the silence was broken.

“Let him go, Staples.” It was Vince.

“Or what, you’ll beat me up with your little toys?” Staples said with a smirk.

“Umm, yeah, kind of. I guess that’s what would happen,” Vince said.

He never is too good at confrontations, like I’ve said before.

“You’ll be sorry if you hurt him, Staples,” Nubby said, looking pretty intimidating for a seventh grader holding a rubber trout.

“Oooh, will I?” Staples said with a sneer.

That’s when Kitten did what Kitten does best: something crazy. He walked a few steps over to the black Honda with the huge spoiler. He raised the rake above his head. He held it there for a moment while everyone watched.

Then he slammed it onto the roof of the car. In the empty Yard the clang was deafening.

“No!” PJ screamed. I heard some of his buddies say things that would’ve made my mom faint.

Kitten dragged the rake across the roof, and the screeching noise made us all wince and grit our teeth. Except for Staples—he just stood there smiling. Kitten finished and the screeches faded. It was hard to see from my spot, but we all knew there were some nasty scratches on the car. One of the most disturbing smiles I’d ever seen spread slowly across Kitten’s face like an expanding pool of blood. I think the rest of us in the Yard got chills up our spines all at the same time.

PJ made a move to go after Kitten, but the little psycho raised the rake again.

“Stay where you are or I’ll do the back window next,” he said in his small, quiet voice. PJ complied as if he was being barked at by a drill instructor. Kitten’s arms shook slightly, not from nerves I don’t think but from excitement. He
wanted
PJ to keep coming at him so he could smash the back window.

“Now let him go or we’ll make that car look like a piece of Swiss cheese,” Nubby said.

Staples laughed. He rocked back on his heels and then shook his head.

“Go ahead, do it. I don’t care,” he said.

There was a dead silence. I think my crew didn’t really know what to do.

Then Kitten shrugged and raised the rake again. “Okay, we will.”

“Wait!”
PJ yelled. “Wait. You know what? I’m out of here. Don’t hurt my baby. I need it; just . . .” He took car keys from his pocket and moved toward the car. He opened the driver’s side door.

“Yeah, I’m going to go, too, Staples. I got a baseball scholarship, you know?” said another of the high school kids.

“Yeah, I don’t really want to get my nose raked off by some psycho little kid. I got a pretty face, right?” said the high school kid with spiky blond hair. “Sorry, Staples.”

The three of them got into the black Honda. The car backed up into the gravel road and then sped away, leaving a trail of dust behind it. Staples stared at it silently.

“Let him go, Staples. You’re outnumbered,” Vince said.

My men all took a few steps toward Staples.

That’s when he hauled me up by my shirt again. He wrapped an arm around my neck and squeezed. I struggled to breathe, and I felt the blood rush to my face. His other hand took out his phone and he flipped it open.

“What are you doing?” Vince asked.

“I’m calling in an anonymous tip,” Staples said calmly.

“To who?” Vince asked, looking a little worried.

“Here’s the thing,” Staples said as his fingers pressed the keys on his phone. “Everyone thinks you’re all so perfect. That I’m a delinquent and you’re just these saints when, in fact, we’re not all that different. But now they’re all going to see you for what you really are—just a bunch of scheming, greedy, rich kids with too much time and no accountability.”

I didn’t like where this was headed.

“Yeah, I’d like to speak to Principal Dickerson,” Staples said into the phone. “Sure, I’ll hold.”

Staples’s arm stayed gripped around my neck. Not too hard that I couldn’t breathe, but it hurt.

“Wait, Staples, maybe we can work something out,” Vince said, panic rising in his voice. He knew as well as I did that if Staples directed Dickerson to our office in the East Wing bathroom we’d all be expelled.

“Oh yeah?” Staples said. “I doubt it.”

I looked at my would-be rescuers. They looked at each other, unsure of what to do. I didn’t see Great White. During the commotion he had somehow snuck off. I hoped Staples wouldn’t notice. And that whatever Great White was doing, he had a plan.

“We can start negotiating by you telling me where you took my money,” Staples said.

Everybody seemed unsure of what to do next. Vince also knew he couldn’t tell him that, because then Staples would likely still turn us in and we’d lose our leverage. I relaxed a little bit. I was going to conserve my energy.

Vince stepped forward as the others stepped back. He held up his hands in front of him.

“Look, Staples, don’t do anything crazy, okay? Let’s just talk about this. We didn’t actually kidnap your dog; he’s just fine, okay?” Vince said.

“Oops, too late,” Staples said. “The secretary is connecting me now.”

We all waited and I don’t think anybody breathed. So this was it. It was all over.

“Yeah, Mr. Dickerson?” Staples said into the phone. My head was close to Staples from where I was, and I heard Dickerson’s unmistakable voice faintly from somewhere above me. Staples wasn’t bluffing; he really had called the school. “Yeah, I want to report some—”

That’s when Great White struck. I heard a soft whizzing noise and then felt liquid splash onto my face. It may have been only water from Great White’s squirt gun, but it had surprised Staples just enough for him to loosen his grip on me ever so slightly. That was all I needed. I threw an elbow into his side, and he dropped me completely.

“Ow!”
He grabbed his ribs as I rolled away from him.

I heard his phone hit the ground, and then the others were upon him.

“Don’t move!” Nubby yelled.

Staples tried to run, but Kitten got him first.

I heard Kitten’s squeal of a battle cry as he picked up his weapon, ready to rake Staples’s face like it was a pile of leaves. He lunged with the handle end first, and the heavy wood cracked against Staples’s kneecap. Staples hit the dirt hard and rolled to his back, moaning.

I picked up his phone and hit the disconnect button while my crew surrounded him. I thought they were going to tenderize Staples like a choice-cut sirloin, the way they were approaching him. He was holding his knee where Kitten had hit him, but otherwise he looked calm. Unafraid—like a kid who’s already sunk lower than the punishment of a physical beating.

“Let us take him out, Mac. He’s a lying sack of—” Kitten started.

“Hang on,” I interrupted. “We’re not going to stoop to that level.”

In truth, it wasn’t about stooping or not. I looked at Vince, and he had the strangest expression on his face, like he was miles away from this place. Then Vince looked right at me and I saw it. Even with everything that had happened, he felt truly bad for Staples. After all, Vince knew what that was like: to have to give money to parents and not to have a dad around. Staples’s and Vince’s situations weren’t all that different, and they had grown up right near each other their whole lives. But still, we somehow had to make sure he wasn’t going to turn us in to Dickerson the first chance he got. We couldn’t just let him go.

“Look, Staples,” I said. “I understand that you did all this because of your family situation. You’re trying to help out your dad. But that doesn’t—”

“You don’t know anything,” Staples interrupted. He didn’t sound mad, though, just empty. “I’m not doing any of this for my loser dad.”

I waited for him to continue, and after a short silence, he did.

“I’m doing all of this for my sister.”

Of course. The picture I had seen in his office. He had looked just like a regular kid in that picture. I guess there was a time when he had been different, when things were better for him.

“My sister,” he repeated. He wasn’t talking directly at me or anybody. He was looking at the ground as if the dirt could talk back or would understand what he was going through. “She was taken from us a few years ago. She lives with a foster family now. I’m only trying to help my dad get back on his feet so I can get my sister back for us. For me. But my dad, he just doesn’t seem to care.”

I didn’t know what to say. None of us did. So we waited for him to continue. But when he finally did, some life had come back to him and he looked right at me, his face full of anger, but whether he was really mad at me or at his dad I wasn’t sure. Maybe both.

“All you rich kids. Kids like you who have everything. You just don’t get how easy you have it. You get everything, you have everything, you don’t even think twice about it. You just go through life and there’s always stuff there, and family there, and you have everything so easily and you don’t even get it.”

“I used to live right near you, Staples. At Bella Vista trailer park, don’t you remember? We even played football together a few times.”

Staples shook his head slightly and squinted up at me. “Don’t remember and don’t care to, Richie McMoney-Bags.”

I sighed.

“I’m not rich, Staples,” I said, but my words sounded empty.

Because he was right. I may have
used
to live near him in the same trailer park, but now I did have it a lot easier than he did. Of course it was easier for me to run a clean, successful business when I had no other worries in life and all of the money I made could go right back into the business. And I had a real family; I couldn’t imagine what it would be like without them. I was rich. And he wasn’t, and I had rubbed it in his face earlier in my office. He hardly had a family, didn’t seem to have any real friends, and had a failing, corrupt business. No wonder he hated me so much.

I looked at Vince again. He looked back at me. But he didn’t have to—I knew already what I needed to do. This kid on the ground in front of me, who had tried to destroy my life, deserved some pro bono services.