IT DOESN’T TAKE long for me to figure out that this is more like half a piece of good news. With Mr. Diaw gone, it gives me a fresh start at school—but I still have that stupid detention to worry about. By the time last period ends on Friday, I’m crazy nervous all over again.

Still, I have an idea. And Arthur’s going to help.

Right after school, G-ma shows up to do her tutoring like always. I meet her by the front door and get my half-healthy, half-junk-food after-school snack. She gives me a banana and then some kid gives me a pack of Oreos because he says he’s allergic to that creme stuff in the middle. Weird alien kid, right? I mean, who’s allergic to that classic cookie nectar?

G-ma goes off to the library and I say I’ll see her in an hour.

So far, so good.

I run by the classroom where Arthur and I usually play chess. He’s got the board set up and ready to go, just in case. I give him half of my banana and two Oreos. Then I head over to the detention room down the hall.

When I walk in, I see Quaashie, Quaashie, Ray-Ray, and a few other kids. They’re all on the D-Squad today. Just like me.

“What you doin’ in here, Grandma’s Boy?” Ray-Ray says. “You take a wrong turn at the water fountain?”

I ignore Ray-Ray and sit on the other side of the room. Then Mrs. Freeman tells us all to pipe down and get to work. Fine with me.

For about ten minutes, nothing happens. I’m still mad about being here in the first place, but at least G-ma doesn’t have to know.

Except then…I hear it. Someone’s whistling out in the hall. Darth Vader’s theme from Star Wars. That’s the signal Arthur and I set up.

When I look over, he’s standing there staring at me. He puts two fingers up to his eyes, points them back at me, and then looks up the hall toward the library.

Code red! G-ma’s looking for me!

“Mrs. Freeman?” I say. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

She just looks at me like that’s the most tired thing she’s ever heard. “You can wait,” she says.

“I don’t think I can,” I say. Then I ball up my fists and cram them in my lap like I’m stopping up a leak. A stupid, messy leak. Then I make the most painful-looking wince, like the Hoover Dam is about to burst and flood the valley.

“I got to go, too!” Ray-Ray says.

“Yeah, me too!” Quaashie R. says.

Then Mrs. Freeman surprises me. “Kenny, you can go,” she says. “The rest of you I don’t believe.”

That’s probably going to earn me a couple of jabs to the kidneys later, but I can’t worry about that right now. I take a hall pass from Mrs. F. and bounce.

Arthur’s eyes look like two big moons when I get to him. I think he’s kind of afraid of G-ma.

“I told her you were in the bathroom,” he whispers. “I think she believed me, but—”

But whatever. I’m already running up the hall. I’ve got to make this quick.

When I get to the library, G-ma’s got a bunch of kids sitting around a big table. “Oh, Kenneth, good,” she says. “Vanessa here has forgotten her copy of Bud, Not Buddy. May we borrow yours, please?”

More bad news! See, that book’s sitting in my backpack. And my backpack’s hanging on a chair in the detention room. If I go back in there now, that’s it. Mrs. Freeman’s going to lock me down tight for the rest of the hour.

And I think—if Steel was here, this would be no problem.

Of course, Steel isn’t here. It’s just me. And I’ve got to think quick.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell G-ma. I walk out of the library, but as soon as I hit the hall again, I’m running like Whiplash is coming after me with ten million volts.

The good news is Arthur has a copy of Bud, Not Buddy in his locker. The bad news is Mrs. Freeman must think I’m taking the world’s longest pee. By the time I deliver that book to G-ma and sprint back to the detention room, Mrs. F. is standing in the door waiting for me.

 

“What took you so long?” she says. “I trusted you, Kenny. And why are you out of breath? Running in the halls isn’t allowed. I ought to give you another detention.”

She lets me slide, though, and I head back to my desk.

Maybe I should be relieved, but I’m not. All I can do now is sit here pretending to do my homework and waiting for my heart to stop doing backflips inside my chest.

Is this what a life of crime feels like?

Because those knuckleheads can have it. For real.