The Fourth Stall - Chris Rylander [49]
I was already forming the second part of the plan. The Shed was actually a great place to have the meeting, because I could really use it to my advantage. All I needed was to get inside. It’s kept locked at all times, but like I said before, I’m in tight with the janitor, so I knew he’d lend me the key for a few days. The plan was coming together rather nicely. Almost too well. In my experience, things just don’t come this easily.
After reading Justin’s response to my note, I looked up at Joe. He looked back, waiting for my reaction.
“It’s on,” I said.
He smiled.
“Go find the bullies and tell them to meet me in my office during afternoon recess,” I said.
All I had to do now was brief the bullies and pay a visit to the janitor and our plan would be underway. Tomorrow. Four. The Shed. We’d be ready. And Justin Johnston would never see it coming.
Chapter 16
I knew that something was wrong the moment I got home from school that day.
As soon as I stepped through the door, my mom called out to me, “Christian, honey, you have a friend here in the kitchen.”
I was immediately suspicious. All of my friends were at home; I had just parted ways with them a few minutes ago. Whoever was waiting for me in the kitchen, I had a feeling that it was not going to be someone I wanted to see.
I walked down the hallway, turned the corner, and there he was. I didn’t know who he was at first, despite the fact that he looked kind of familiar. Or maybe deep down I really did know but just didn’t want to believe it.
He sat at the kitchen table, looking like some kind of salesman. He wore a clean sweater and dress pants. But it was a bad disguise; you can’t hide Staples’s kind of menace from someone who knows what to look for. It would be like trying to disguise a lion by dressing it in a pink tutu. It’s still going to eat you no matter what it’s wearing.
Apparently, though, his clothes and smile had been enough to fool my mom into letting him into our kitchen. It probably didn’t help that my mom is the kind of person who calls everyone sweetie or dear. She thinks everyone who uses polite words and a smile is a “nice young man.” If my mom wasn’t such a great cook, I’d say she’s nuts.
Other than his neat and clean appearance, Staples was a monster. He was huger than huge, like the human version of a grizzly bear crossed with that shark from Jaws and a giant troll. And despite his dress clothes and smiling face, he still looked mean enough to eat little kittens and puppies like they were fruit snacks. His eyes bragged of inhuman intelligence. They were sharp, as if just a glance could gash your cheek like a razor blade. He was definitely still a teenager, but in the right lighting he could have easily passed for twenty-two. He had a shaved head with dark stubble for hair just starting to grow back. He also had the beginnings of a beard, every bit as prickly, dark, and menacing as his hair. His eyebrows were bushy and his jaw was square like a pro athlete on steroids. He smelled like cheap cologne. And if death and destruction had an odor, he would have smelled like that, too.
Something told me the smile on Staples’s face was not there to make me feel better. And it didn’t. A plate of Oreo cookies sat in front of him and he slowly brought one to his mouth and took a bite. I swear I heard the Oreo scream faintly as his teeth sank in.
I was still trying to convince myself that this was really happening, that Staples was really sitting at my kitchen table, when my mom came over and poured him a glass of milk. She smiled at me and winked. She clearly didn’t know who she was dealing with. How could she? Staples probably did look like a nice guy to someone as trusting as my mom, someone who’d never heard any of the stories.
“Thank you, Mrs. Barrett,” Staples said in a deep but polite voice.
My mouth opened, but no words came out. I tried to close it, but nothing happened. I thought my jaw