Having Staples around as a third wheel for the next several days was complicated, and by that I mean it was terrifying, nerve-racking, difficult, painful (my arm felt like it could fall off at any moment), surreal, and—okay, I kind of admit it—at times even kind of cool. I know that sounds crazy, but being seen out in public acting like we were friends with a legend, an eighteen-year-old legend at that and one who attracted attention from lots of cute older girls, was pretty awesome. I can’t lie about that part of it.

Plus, he was pretty funny once you got past all the arm-punching and how much he made fun of Vince and me for pretty much everything we did or wore or said. And he was sort of like the sadistic version of Vince’s grandma in that he kept giving us advice on business, girls, life, all that stuff. Except instead of giving crazy and illogical advice like Vince’s grandma, Staples’s was actually helpful. Even if it was sometimes a little demented.

Some of the things he’d said to us over the past few weeks included such treasures as:

“You’re only as tough as your actions show you are. That means you won’t intimidate anyone if all you do is talk tough. People will see right through that. You need to bust some heads. That’s what will get you respect. A great man once said, ‘Speak softly and carry a big stick.’ Which is great, even if my advice would instead be ‘Speak loudly and carry a big stick.’”

“If you get into a fight and you’re both still standing at the end, then you’re both losers.”

“Despite what people say, money can buy you happiness. Like, I’m not talking about eternal happiness or anything, but more on a day-to-day moment-by-moment basis. Let’s say right now I was to give you two hundred dollars with absolutely no strings attached. Well then, would you or would you not be happier than you had been just moments before? And that extra happiness would probably last you a good day or maybe even two. See, it’s simple logic: money can buy happiness even if it’s only temporary. Besides, isn’t all happiness temporary by definition?”

“Stealing stuff is easy. It’s knowing what is actually worth the risk of stealing that’s difficult.”

“Girls love to talk about themselves. If you like a girl, just ask her lots of questions about herself, you’ll get a date in no time.”

“Never hesitate in anything you do, ever. That’s like a cardinal rule for all life on earth. In a duel between two sharks, two tigers, whatever, whichever side hesitates when the time to attack comes will end up dead.”

“Don’t trust anybody completely. Ever.”

“If you ever see a clown somewhere other than at a circus, rodeo, or party, then either run away or kill it immediately.”

“Keep a roll of quarters gripped tightly in each hand if you ever get into a fist-fight. Trust me, they will help.”

Anyways, the Saturday after he first showed up in Vince’s trailer, Staples wanted to take Vince and me to the go-kart track as a part of his Big Brother thing. At first, I didn’t want to go, but I couldn’t just bail on Vince like that.

I was technically grounded, of course, but when I explained the Big Brother situation to my mom and about how Vince wanted me with since it was awkward to hang out with Staples on his own, she understood and let me go.

When Staples showed up to get me with Vince already riding shotgun, I felt kind of dumb for being such a wuss about the whole thing. For one thing Staples apparently didn’t have that old red muscle car with racing stripes anymore. He showed up in a regular-looking, blue Toyota sedan. Also, he and Vince were actually laughing about something when they pulled into my driveway, as if they were actually having a good time. Go figure.

I got in the backseat behind Vince.

“I need to make a stop before we go to the tracks,” Staples said as he backed out of my driveway.

Vince turned and glanced at me, indicating that he had no idea what was up. I shifted in my seat. I saw Staples glance at me through the rearview mirror.

“Don’t worry. We’re not going to a drug deal or anything. I just want to stop by and see my sister for a few minutes. Her foster parents don’t like me very much, so I can only see her briefly and when she’s not home.”

“I thought you were doing everything on the level,” I said. “Sneaking around her foster parents for covert meetings doesn’t exactly sound aboveboard.”

“Hey, I just said they don’t like me. It’s not illegal for me to hang out with my sister for a little bit if I want. I just do it when they’re not around because there’s no point in me causing any unnecessary trouble right now.”

“How often do you visit?” Vince asked.

“I don’t know. As much as I can, I guess. Maybe a couple of times a month. I’m just . . . I’m trying to not overdo it until I work everything out with the courts as far as me getting custody.”

“So, why did you trade in the sports car for this thing?” I said, trying to change the subject.

“It’s a Toyota, Mac. There are billions of them. Look,” Staples pointed out the window at another blue Toyota parked on the street. “Same car. I figured it would look better for me to drive an ‘everyman’ car instead of my dad’s old attention-getter. You know that flashy sports cars get pulled over by cops way more than regular cars, right? Statistically. Plus, insurance on that thing was insanely expensive. So, once I lost my business . . .”

He trailed off, but shot me a pretty nasty glance through the rearview mirror. I sometimes forgot what the consequences were of me taking down his business.

An awkward silence followed as we headed out of town and in the direction of Thief Valley, a smaller town that was just about fifteen miles away. Then out of nowhere Staples started talking again.

“My sister’s so freaking smart,” he said. “Smarter than me. And you guys look like morons compared to her, no offense.”

“Uh, none taken?” I said.

I realized that I’d never heard Staples talk this way before. Every time he talked about his sister, all traces of his sarcasm were gone. Instead he looked . . . I don’t know, like a little kid thinking about his first trip to Disneyland or something. It was weird and it kind of made me uncomfortable for some reason.

“I mean,” Staples continued, “if it weren’t for her, I probably would be in prison or worse. But she needs me. I’d give anything to be able to hold her hand again the way I used to when I walked her to the playground when she was in kindergarten.”

He moved a hand from the steering wheel to his face.

Before I could stop myself, I asked, “Are you crying?”

“So what if I am?” Staples said. Then he reached back and slugged me right above my knee. I grabbed my leg and winced and rocked back in my seat. It felt like I’d just got run over by a freight train loaded to capacity with African elephants.

Staples reached over and got Vince on the arm, too, for good measure, I guessed. We didn’t say anything for the last several minutes of the drive. It was safer that way.

We finally pulled up in front of Thief Valley Elementary. It was a Saturday, but apparently a lot of kids rode their bikes to the playground on Saturdays. That’s sort of how things worked in smaller towns, you made do with what you had. And in towns like Thief Valley, the schoolyard playground was likely the most fun place to hang out in grade school, even on weekends. There were twenty or so kids playing on the swings and monkey bars and the rest of the stuff. And there was even a small game of football going on behind the playground. Staples parked on the street right by the playground.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Us, too?” I said.

“Yeah, why not? Come on.” He swung the door open and got out of the car.

Vince looked at me and shrugged before removing his seat belt and opening his door. I followed him, and we jogged to catch up with Staples as he walked toward the playground.

None of the kids was breaking away and running toward us, and I wondered what was going on. Finally, one girl who had been talking to some other kids behind the slide broke away and started walking toward us.

I barely recognized her from the picture I’d seen in Staples’s office when we’d raided it last year. She was a lot older than in the picture. She was now in maybe third or fourth grade, and her hair was different.

“What are you doing here?” she said, stopping at the edge of the playground.

“Is it a crime that I want to say hi to my little sister?”

“Probably,” she said. “Everything you do is a crime of some sort.”

“Ooh, ouch,” Staples said playfully, but I could tell he was hurt by the comment.

Vince and I exchanged looks. Staples’s sister apparently wasn’t quite as thrilled as he was about the idea of him getting custody. I wondered if she even knew at all that he was trying to.

“Anyway,” Staples said, “these are Mac and Vince. They’re my new pals. Mac, Vince: my sister, Abby.”

Abby eyed Vince and me up and down, clearly not impressed.

“Why are they so young?” she said, even though we were at least several years older than she was. “Picking on kids your own age got too boring?”

Staples sighed and took a knee so he was closer to eye level with her. “Listen, I don’t want to fight. I just came here to say hi. Mac and Vince and I are going to race go-karts, and I figured if you wanted to come—”

“Why would I want to do that? Besides, David and Linda would never let me.”

I guessed that David and Linda were her foster parents. The whole thing was getting uncomfortable, and I glanced up at some of the other kids on the playground. This monster of a kid was terrorizing two other kids by the swings. From his face he looked no older than fifth grade, but the rest of him . . . Well, he was like an industrial barge with skin, limbs, and a face. Or a woolly mammoth. He was holding one of the kids upside down by his ankle, and he had the other one pinned to the ground under his foot. It was horrifying. I looked at Vince and caught his attention, then nodded toward where the beast was flinging around little kids like he was fluffing pillows.

I made a move toward them. There was no way I could stand there and let that happen. But Abby held out her arm and stopped me.

“You don’t want to do that,” she said.

“But—” I started.

“Trust me. You shouldn’t get involved with him. He’s pretty powerful and stuff. It’s best just to stay out of it. Those two kids will be okay. Besides, they kind of started it.”

I wasn’t so sure, but I nodded and stepped back. Mostly because, in all honesty, I really didn’t want any part of getting into an altercation with a fourteen-foot-tall grizzly bear posing as a grade-school kid.

“David and Linda,” Staples said, and then shook his head.

“They’re not that bad,” Abby said.

I’d been interviewing and reading people long enough to know how empty her words were. It was as easy to read on her face as if she’d written it right across her forehead: they were that bad.

“You sure you don’t want to come?” Staples asked.

“Definitely not with you.”

“I’m going to make everything up to you,” Staples said, getting back to his feet. “I promise.”

“Yeah, just like Dad said he would, too. Right. Besides, I don’t need you to. In case you haven’t noticed, I can take care of myself just fine.” Abby backed away a few steps and then turned and ran back to her group of friends behind the slide.

Vince and I looked at each other uncomfortably. Were we, like, supposed to say something to Staples? Should I pat him on the shoulder? Of course the answer was no. That’d be like poking an already angry tiger in the ribs.

“All right, guys, let’s go,” Staples said, and then started trudging back to the car.