The Fourth Stall - Chris Rylander [26]
Great White let a sharky grin spread over his gaunt face. I saw some of the other bullies perk up, too, except for Kitten. His face looked blank, which wasn’t surprising. Kitten always looked composed and rarely talked.
“Let’s get one thing straight now,” Great White said. “I’m doing this for the money, not to help out you blokes. I’d just as soon hoover my baby sister’s spilled shreddies every morning or skip holiday this year.”
I tried not to laugh. I saw some of the bullies biting their cheeks, doing the same thing. It was always hard not to laugh at the way Great White talked. Apparently British people called vacuuming “hoovering,” cereal “shreddies,” and vacations “holidays.” England must be one weird place.
“That’s just fine,” I said. “Tell yourself whatever you need to, just remember that if we don’t take down Staples now, then you run the risk of going from the bullies to the bullied.”
“You think some kid is just going to come in here and start pushing us around because of some stupid gambling thing? Pfft, whatever,” the Hutt slurred. He wasn’t the only one who seemed unconvinced.
“Look, you can believe me or not. If you want the truth, I don’t really care either way what you think. Let’s just say that you’re right and that Staples never will be a threat to you guys. If that’s true, then what have you got to lose by helping me? Nothing. All you have to do is a few odd jobs and you’ll be much richer for it. I’m basically making charity cases out of all of you; why in the heck would any of you turn me down? Are you scared or what?”
“Are you calling me a chicken?” Little Paul asked. His little fist was balled up, and he took a step forward.
I took a small step back, wary of his first-strike capabilities.
“No, of course not,” I said. “Not if you’re willing to help me out. But if you are too chicken to help, believe me, I totally understand. I mean, who could blame you, right?”
Several bullies shuffled their feet and I saw most of them glancing around at one another to see who might be the first to show fear, which is the ultimate sign of weakness for a bully. One flash of vulnerability with everybody watching and their status as school bully could come crashing down in the blink of an eye.
After nobody spoke for a few more seconds, I finally said, “Good. It’s nice to see that none of you are too scared or stupid to turn down such a lucrative offer.”
“What’s our first, like, task or whatever?” Nubby asked.
“The first task is the elimination of Barnaby Willis, otherwise known as the Collector. I want him taken out. Immediately.”
“Just, like, go beat him up or what?” Kevin asked.
“It’s more than that. I want him to be completely convinced that it’s in his best interest to stop collecting kids. Permanently. I’m ordering a hit on him. In movies that usually means killing the guy or dumping him into the river or something. Obviously I don’t want that. I just want him to stop collecting debts. Understand?” I said.
The bullies looked at me with blank stares. I sighed.
“Look, I want you to collect him. Take his stuff. Do whatever you have to do—just make him know what it feels like to be collected. Make Barnaby Willis wish that he never came to school today.”
Again, I just got more blank stares in response. I guess that’s why these kids are bullies and not honor students.
“Okay, look, meet up with me at the start of late recess and I’ll tell you exactly what to do, all right?”
“What about me?” PrepSchool asked, her arms crossed and her hip jutting out like she had better places to be. “What am I supposed to do? I’m not getting involved in any fighting, okay? I can’t risk losing my acceptance into Hanover Academy, plus I just got a mani, if you couldn’t tell.”
I hid a smirk. “No, you can start by spreading a rumor about the Collector that causes kids to laugh at him instead of fear him.”
“Hey, I don’t deal in rumors, okay? What do you take me for? I’m not like some lame gossip girl. I don’t have time for that kids’ stuff.”
I looked her right in the