Later that day at afternoon recess we did something we thought we’d never do again: we went to the East Wing boys’ bathroom.

We got there as quickly as we could, but there was already a line of customers. Mitch and Lloyd stood outside the door doing the job that Joe had done for me during the past few years.

Vince and I didn’t want to risk waiting in line. We’d already had to pay this bully Little Paul to cause a scene out in the playground to distract Dickerson so we could get down there undetected. But that would only keep the principal busy for so long.

We went to the front of the line.

“No cutting,” Lloyd said, and took a step toward us.

“We really need to see Jimmy. It’s important,” I said, holding out my hand, a five-dollar bill tucked into the palm.

He slapped my hand away. “I said no cutting!”

Man, didn’t this kid know how to take a bribe? I was about to just give him the five dollars in plain sight along with written instructions that this was, in fact, a bribe, but Vince stepped in first.

“Don’t you remember who this is?” Vince said.

Lloyd shrugged. Mitch knew, of course, but he didn’t say anything.

“This is Mac, the guy who handed this business to Jimmy. What do you think Jimmy will say when we tell him later that his gorilla doorman didn’t let in the founder and godfather of his business?” Vince said.

Lloyd and Mitch looked at each other. Lloyd looked to be helplessly lost in his cavernous brain. But Mitch scowled and then stepped aside.

“Go ahead,” he said. “We haven’t let in the first customer yet, so Jimmy is free. But hurry up; we’ve got a lot of people to see today.”

I glanced at the line; it had almost doubled in just the few minutes since we’d gotten there. Mitch wasn’t kidding.

Justin Johnston greeted us as we entered. He smiled, but not in a Hey-How-Are-You sort of way but more in an I’m-Going-to-Enjoy-Smashing-Your-Face-In sort of way. I guessed he must have still been pretty upset about what we’d done to him last year when he had been working for Staples.

“Hey, guys, great to see you,” he said sarcastically.

I just gave him a head nod in return. Then I noticed what they’d done to my formerly clean, professional, intentionally nondescript office. They’d desecrated it with a giant Scarface poster. Now, a lot of guys think Scarface is like the be-all and end-all in gangster movies. The coolest thing ever. But we true gangster-movie fans know that Scarface is like a stupid ant compared to the giant scorpions that are the Godfather movies. Not to mention Goodfellas, Casino, The Departed, and Miller’s Crossing.

Scarface is like The Godfather’s ugly and stupid third cousin who the whole family is embarrassed about. I mean, okay, sure, on its own it’s an okay movie. But the way everybody treats it as the Holy Grail makes me sick. Never, ever be friends with a dude with a Scarface poster.

“Like it?” Justin asked.

I nodded, trying to stay polite. It would be best to keep this civil, I had a feeling.

Then he led us into the fourth stall from the high window. The very stall that used to be my office. The setup was similar to mine; there was a small desk inside and two chairs across from each other. The main difference, I supposed, was that this time I would be sitting on the other side of the desk.

“Hey, guys, how’s it going?” Jimmy asked.

“Well, okay,” I said. “How are things here? I heard you’ve been working a pretty tight ship?”

Jimmy grinned and nodded. “The payments have been pretty big, haven’t they?”

“Sure,” I said, “but then, it’s not too hard to make money when you’re selling a cheap and shoddy product.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Huh?”

I told him about our experience at his lemonade stand that weekend. About how we’d basically been swindled and that the kids said that’s how all the stands were in the neighborhood.

“Jimmy had no idea! Jimmy subcontracted the stands, assuming someone else could be trusted to handle them. Business was a little busier than I’d expected at first so I had to divvy up some of the jobs; I had to outsource to other people. I swear Jimmy will make sure this doesn’t happen again. Friends, that’s a Jimmy Two-Tone Trademarked Pipe Lock Guarantee.”

He seemed to be genuinely surprised and even a little angry about the shoddy lemonade stand being connected to his name.

“Okay, but what about the fact that you’re always conveniently prepared for any number of random problems? You have to admit, it seems a little suspicious.”

“Hey, guys, Jimmy just likes to be prepared. It’s part of why I’m so good at this. Jimmy anticipates things. The best businessmen see things before they happen. You dudes should know that better than anybody.”

It was a good argument, but I still didn’t buy it. Something seemed off about all of this. I could tell Vince was thinking the same thing because right now would have been the perfect time for a grandma joke, but instead he just sat there silently.

“All right,” I said. “But no more cut lemonade, right? I mean, my name is still attached to this business.”

“Right, guy. Jimmy will take care of that. Don’t worry about it. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a lot of customers to see.”

Vince and I nodded and left the office.

On our way back to class we talked about what could be going on. It was really Jimmy’s word against some random gossip, and even if the gossip was true, it was impossible to tell how much Jimmy was actually involved.

But before we could figure out what to do next, one of the hall monitors stopped us and told me Mr. Dickerson wanted to see me.

This couldn’t be good.

The secretary told me to enter his office as soon as I got down there. I opened his huge wooden door, which seemed to be larger than the last time I had been here, for some reason, and stepped in, closing it behind me.

Mr. Dickerson was seated behind his desk, scowling. “Have a seat, Mr. Barrett,” he said.

I sat across from him and tried to look as innocent as possible. I pretended I was a helpless puppy to try and get into character. I didn’t think he was buying it.

“I thought we had ourselves an understanding,” he said.

“We do. Why? What’s this about?” I asked.

“You were spotted by a teacher down near the East Wing today,” he said. “Want to explain what you were doing down there?

I took a moment to collect my thoughts before just wildly blurting out denials. I’d learned that getting instantly defensive usually didn’t do anything but make things worse. For one, he’d said near the East Wing, not in the bathroom or even near the bathroom. Two, if he’d found out about other kids going down there, then this meeting would have been entirely different; it either wouldn’t have existed or I’d already have been expelled. Which meant he didn’t know much of anything. All he knew was that I had been in the area today.

“I was looking for Vince,” I said.

“Why would he be down there?”

“Well, he wasn’t. I only looked down that way because I couldn’t find him anywhere else. Turns out, he was in the other bathroom. Got sick, apparently. I think it was the chicken we got served today. Are you sure they cook the chicken thoroughly?”

Dickerson actually growled then, low and slow like a mean dog just starting to get riled.

“That’s enough of that,” he said. “I’m tired of you kids making lunch jokes.”

He then proceeded to lecture me for the better part of fifteen minutes about watching my mouth and knowing better than to go snooping around that area of school again, no matter what the reason.

“You narrowly avoided getting expelled for the last incident, Mr. Barrett,” he said as he was winding down. “Your promise to stay away from that bathroom and stay out of trouble for your last two years at this school was a part of that deal.”

I nodded and agreed, just like I had been doing the whole time.

He sighed and shook his shiny head. “I just don’t get it. . . . You could be such a good student. I don’t get why you insist on causing so much trouble.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I said again. It was pretty much the only thing he’d been allowing me to say. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Don’t think I’m not onto you. There’s something going on around here, and I have a feeling I know who’s behind it. Know that the next time I see you anywhere near that hallway, or anything that even remotely resembles funny business goes down at this school, then you’re outta here for good, young man! Expelled. You tell that to your friend, Vince, too. Got that? Now get to class.”

As I walked slowly to my next class, I couldn’t help but think of a Vince’s-grandma quote he’d used earlier that summer. “Getting expelled ain’t so bad. It’s getting Sponged that you need to worry about. Sponges eat everything. I seen a sea sponge bite a man clean in half in his bathtub once.”

If only that were true, then I wouldn’t have been feeling so anxious about everything. I couldn’t believe it had come to this again. Vince and me being out of the game had lasted all of a month. Whether or not Jimmy was telling the truth, something was definitely up, and now Dickerson was on my case even more than he had been. Staples was right—you’re either in or you’re out. And, despite what we thought, everything we had tried to do, it’s clear that we weren’t out.

If I was going to figure this one out, the first thing I needed was more information. I decided right then that I would find Tyrell after school and put him on the case.