Troublemakers Read online

  The Old Chips

  Anyway, it was Monday morning, and I was on the floor of Bizarro’s going through the rack of marked-down snacks. We were definitely still in sixth grade at the time, which is important for the story. Trust me, I’m going somewhere with this.

  It was last October, around the time of the mayonnaise bomb incident, which changed school policy on bathroom passes and pencil cases forever, and made sure I’ll probably never be approved to work for MI6 except maybe in explosive ordnance. Me, Carlos, and Tina had met up on the walk to school and stopped at the liquor store to get a sensible breakfast instead of what our parents give us at home. The store is called Pissarro’s, but we call it Bizarro’s because it’s disgusting, the sticker-covered windows have bars over them (as does the door), and everything is overpriced and old. So like I said, I was on the floor next to the discounted snacks, digging through ancient spicy peanuts and stuff.

  “You’re not gonna find anything,” said Tina.

  “Yes, I am. Shut up. There has to be something in here I can get for 23 cents.”

  Several Pringle tubes rattled around on the floor. Luckily, the old guy at the counter had long ago lost the will to argue with us, so he continued napping on his crossword. I dug my hand deep into the recesses of the marked-down shelf.

  “We’re gonna be late,” said Carlos.

  “Who cares?” I said.

  “Good point.”

  Finally, my search for the cheapest thing at the grossest store paid off. I pulled out a purple bag featuring strange corkscrew twist chips and a drawing of what looked like if the San Diego Chicken was a crackhead. The words on the bag said, “¡Muy Anaranjado! ¡Huele Mal!”

  “What’s this mean?” I asked, showing it to Carlos.

  “It means… um… I don’t think you should eat that,” he said.

  “They’re only 20 cents! It’s a bargain!”

  Tina grabbed it and looked at the back.

  “Best before 6/30/99,” she read.

  “That’s just best,” I said, snatching them back. “I’ll have three cents to put toward the investment fund.”

  “How much is in the investment fund?” asked Tina.

  “Right now? Three cents.”

  “Don’t do this,” said Carlos as I got out my hard-found money.

  “It’s happening,” I said.

  I tossed my nickels on the counter and opened the bag as we walked out the door. The stench of a hockey player’s gym bag wafted out. I held my nose and tried one. It tasted like those packets that come in beef jerky that tell you not to eat them. I munched away as we walked through the neighborhood toward school.

  “It’s only the penthouse if it’s the entire top floor,” said Tina. “You did not stay in the penthouse.”

  “Yes, I did,” said Carlos.

  “If the elevator doesn’t go straight to your room, that’s not the penthouse! There can’t be two penthouses!”

  “Yes there can! Any unit that’s on the top floor and receives special amenities not reserved for the other floors is technically a penthouse suite, and since only top-floor units had a full kitchen, ergo we stayed in the penthouse.”

  “Don’t ergo me.”

  “I’ll ergo where I want! Ipso facto!”

  “Ipso stupid! That hotel had six floors – you were barely off the ground!”

  “You’re just jealous of my baller lifestyle.”

  “Yeah, can’t wait till my house gets fumigated – then I can be rolling that private jet life like you.”

  I didn’t say much because I had to try and finish the bag before we got to school. As we waited for the light to change, we heard shouting and looked up. A guy dressed in all green was pushing an old red Toyota down the street. Like actually pushing – he was behind the car and shoving it along. The cars behind him seemed mad. He was yelling something, either at them or at us.

  As we stepped off the curb, we nearly got run over by an older kid zooming past us on a hoverboard, looking at his phone. Didn’t say anything or even notice us. A couple blocks later, we saw five or six skater kids in an empty parking lot. One headed toward a parking cement-thing and tried to do an ollie. He failed miserably, smacked the cement thing, fell on his wrist, and yelled out in pain. We laughed.

  We got to school and walked past the staff lot. Mr. McCrimmons was just getting out of his car. We were late, which meant he was really late. He had an umbrella in his hand.

  “Hello, boys! Oh, and Tina.” He shook the umbrella at us. “Better safe than sorry!” It was like 90 degrees out.

  As we got to the stairs, I stuffed the empty chip bag in my back pocket. Ron was manning the door. He shook his head and crossed his arms.

  “Cutting it close today,” he said.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Carlos.

  During school, everything chugged along as normal. We got our math homework back. I got a 4/10. Then we got assigned a huge problem set, and we all groaned super loud, which is supposed to be a signal that she should not do that, but she did it anyway.

  Our social studies class was still watching the Lewis & Clark movie. Mrs. Forch never wrote down what part of the movie each class was at, so we all had a silent agreement to lie when she started it and shout “We haven’t seen this part yet!” so she’d rewind it until we told her to start, and we’d only cover like 10 new minutes each day and it took two weeks to watch.

  In science, we had a “Parts of the Cell” quiz. Carlos got the answers from somebody in first period, but I didn’t believe him that “Golgi body” was a real thing, so I got that one wrong. I went with “Mibrosome.” Then music, where I just lip sank[4] every song as per usual.

  By lunch, I was feeling pretty sick. The old chips weren’t sitting too well. I moaned and put my head on the table, but no one came by to offer to let me go home, which I thought was the point of being sick.

  “Told you,” said Carlos. I couldn’t eat my lunch, which was good for Carlos and Tina. They ate my dessert and then tried to sell my square pizza to an eighth grader, but dropped it on the floor by accident. They played tray hockey with it for a few seconds, and then we all ran away.

  After school, as we walked down the front steps, I spotted Chris Miranda, known far and wide as the ruffian who’d gotten expelled for a day[5] for bringing a machete to school. I do not like Chris Miranda.

  “Hey, Earl of Byron! Going back to your mansion at Downtown Abbey?” he said.

  “It’s Downton Abbey, you pillock!” I shouted.

  He sneered at me.

  “I’m gonna slice your face off tomorrow,” he said. I’d heard that one before.

  I had a super smart genius plan to get a dollar for free. I had Tina loan me her quarters, and we stopped at 7-11 so Carlos could change a bill. With four bucks in change, I headed for the laundromat.

  “This is never going to work,” said Carlos. “They yell at you for using the change machine when you’re not doing laundry.”

  “Yes, it will,” I said. “He’s not the proprietor – she’s terrifying. This is her son who got kicked out of the Army.”

  “What if there’s not a five in there?” asked Tina.

  “This is the most overpriced laundromat in the world. There will be a five.”

  They waited around the corner while I went into the laundromat. I headed straight to the back where the change machine was. I loudly dropped the $4 in quarters into the little tray and made a bunch of noise with them. Then I walked up to the burnout at the front counter.

  “Hey,” I said. “I put a $5 bill in the change machine, and it only gave me $4 in quarters.” I showed him the money and he stared at it while I counted out loud. He grabbed his keys and went to the machine, unlocked it, and swung it open. Inside was a confusing mess of money and gray metal parts. He pulled out a $5 bill and looked at it. I held out the change to trade. Instead, he pocketed the $5 and clicked out four quarters from his belt and handed them to me. Free dollar. That’s how I run this game.


  “I can’t believe that worked,” said Carlos as I handed them back their contributions.

  “We should blackmail him for stealing that five bucks,” I said.

  “Don’t we get a cut of the profits? We donated the money,” said Tina.

  “Nope,” I said. “My awesome plan. You get nothing.”

  I put the quarters in the tiny pocket at the top of my jeans

  “How about I make mush out of your face?” said Tina.

  “That’s the second most-dangerous threat I’ve gotten this afternoon. Not impressed.”

  “Next time, I want a cut,” she grumbled.

  When I got home, Isaac was on the couch because of course he was. I have a half-brother named Isaac Newton. He’s sixteen and lives with his dad in Pasadena. He was on fall break while I was forced to go to school because life is cruel and bad. His smart-kid school is on Extended Schedule, so they get a whole week off at the end of every quarter. But they only get a month in summer, so really it’s a dumb school. Isaac is a giant noodle-limbed monster covered in pimples and emitting the scent of a plague-ridden body tossed out too late on bring-out-your-dead day left decaying in the gutter for a week. I consulted the Internet for that last sentence.

  Isaac didn’t even look up as I walked in. He was burrowed into the couch with his feet on the coffee table, playing Fortnite, eating from a bag of popcorn while there was already one empty bag crumpled up on the table, and talking to a girl named Nadine on FaceTime with one headphone in.

  “Yeah, that’s crazy,” he said, pretending to listen but really looking at the TV. “No, nobody likes her. Yeah, I’ll probably go. I know. Yeah. Yeah.”

  I walked in front of the TV and he got his dumb butt killed.

  “Fudge, brudge!” He held the headphone to his ear. “What? No, not you. I’m playing Fortnite and my dumb brother just killed me. Yes, I’m listening! Blorb!”

  I gave him the finger and went in my room.

  At dinner, I slowly ate soup while Isaac texted and Mom glared at him.

  “You know,” she said, “when Charles Dickens was your age, he worked ten-hour days at a shoe polish factory for six shillings a week.”

  “And now he’s dead, so look where that got him,” said Isaac. His words were brave, but he stank of fear; fear and body odor.

  “Your old babysitter Louise got a job at that fancy wine shop on Venice,” she said. “Maybe you could ask her about working there.”

  “They don’t usually hire underaged high school kids to work at alcohol stores,” said Isaac, not looking up.

  There was a long uncomfortable silence as Mom reloaded her guilt bazooka.

  “Well, I know your father doesn’t like to push you too hard, but perhaps there’s better ways to spend your school breaks than in front of the TV.”

  “Glurble durble durble,” said Isaac.

  “What are you doing after school this week, honey?” she asked, looking at me.

  “Super busy,” I said. “Can’t do what you’re about to suggest.”

  “Maybe the two of you can do a project together. You could paint your room and finally get rid of all those marks on the wall.”

  “Those are important business strategies,” I said.

  “Or why don’t you two ride your bikes to the zoo?”

  We looked at one another and agreed silently, then shook our heads with great force.

  “Just a thought,” she said. For those of you who don’t know, the zoo is like 10 miles away, and Isaac’s bike is like 20 miles away.

  “Oh, I bought muffins,” said Mom, clicking her phone. “They’re in the fridge. Sorry, I need to respond to this.” I spent the rest of dinner slurping my soup as loudly as possible while Mom and Isaac stared at their phones. I even spent a couple minutes mimicking them, pretending I had a phone, but they didn’t notice. Also, who puts muffins in the fridge? It’s a warm food; it goes on the counter. When I get older, I’m getting like the most expensive shrink.

  I still didn’t feel quite right. My stomach had a similar sensation to when I ate all that gravel to impress everyone in first grade. I tried to do the math; it seemed like it was the exact same assignment we’d just turned in that day, which wasn’t good because I hadn’t understood the homework we’d turned in. I listened to the Dodgers game on the radio while I did homework because somehow that’s okay on a school night but TV isn’t. They lost, of course.

  I got ready for bed around 10:30. Mom was already asleep and Isaac was probably out buying crack or something. I stood next to my bed and… hold on….

  Achoooooo!

  Big sneeze. Like all-time top ten. Mucus everywhere. I wiped my hands on the comforter and went to sleep.

  __________

  Day Two

  Anyway, the next morning, I felt fine. I checked the fridge – no muffins. Don’t know what that was about. Not like Mom to lie about something other than when I’ll be old enough to select my own haircut.[6] Isaac was asleep on the couch, obviously. I checked my jeans pocket for the four quarters I’d gotten at the laundromat. They were gone. You might be thinking I was wearing a different pair of jeans, but that was not and is not a thing that I do. I couldn’t find them anywhere. I had to scrounge for change again, and finally found a quarter at the bottom of the coffee cup on Mom’s desk that she keeps pens in.

  I met up with the posse and we went to Bizarro’s, where I headed straight for the discount shelf.

  “You’re not gonna find another bag of chips that cheap,” said Tina.

  “Shut up,” I said, sticking my arm in. I yanked out a bag that said, “Made with Olean,” whatever that means. It cost an entire quarter. Nuts to that. I kept digging until I found another bag of Muy Anaranjado for 20 cents. Yes, they’d given me a tummy ache the day before, but I know a good deal when I see one.

  “I can’t believe there was another bag of those,” said Carlos. I mused on that. It was strange. Several strange things had happened that morning. I munched some more stinky chips.

  “It’s only the penthouse if it’s the entire top floor,” said Tina. “You did not stay in the penthouse.”

  “Yes, I did,” said Carlos.

  “If the elevator doesn’t go straight to your room, that’s not the penthouse! There can’t be two penthouses!”

  “Yes there can! Any unit that’s on the top floor and receives special amenities not reserved for the other floors is technically a penthouse suite, and since only top-floor units had a full kitchen, ergo we stayed in the penthouse.”

  “Don’t ergo me.”

  “I’ll ergo where I want!”

  I stopped walking for a second.

  “Didn’t you guys have this exact same conversation yesterday?” I asked.

  “What?” said Carlos.

  “You guys had this argument yesterday. You said the same things. Don’t you remember?”

  “I don’t remember stuff that happened before,” said Tina.

  “Yeah,” agreed Carlos. “Remembering is for dorks.”

  “It’s dangerously close to being a good student,” said Tina.

  “I’m too much of a visionary to waste my time memorizing facts and dates. We’re gonna drop out of school within a year anyway once we get some VC funding,” said Carlos.

  “Okay…” I said, still unsure. We kept walking.

  “Anyway,” said Carlos. “Ipso facto.”

  “Ipso stupid! That hotel had six floors – you were barely off the ground!”

  “You’re just jealous of my baller lifestyle.”

  “Yeah, can’t wait till my house gets fumigated – then I can be rolling that private jet life like you.”

  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it really seemed like something was up. I gobbled down more nutritious orange-powder-covered breakfast.

  We stopped at the light, and as we were standing there, there was this guy dressed in all green, pushing a red car down the street. The cars behind him seemed mad. He shoved his car along and looked at us, yelling so
mething we couldn’t hear, possibly a dire warning. As we stepped off the curb after the light changed, we nearly got run over by an older kid who zoomed past us on a hoverboard while looking at his phone.

  As I poured the shards from the bottom of the bag into my mouth, I saw five or six skater kids in an empty parking lot. One headed toward a parking cement-thing and tried to do an ollie. He failed miserably, smacked the cement thing, fell on his wrist, and squealed in pain. We laughed.

  When we got to school, Mr. McCrimmons was hustling out of the parking lot. He had an umbrella in his hand.

  “Hello, boys! Oh, and Tina.” He shook the umbrella at us. “Better safe than sorry!” It was so bright out I could barely see.

  As we went up the stairs, Ron shook his head at us.

  “Cutting it close today,” he said.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Carlos. This all seemed terribly familiar.

  “Does it seem weird to you guys that both Ron and Mr. McCrimmons said the same exact stuff to us as yesterday?” I said.

  “Yeah… that is weird,” said Carlos.

  “We saw the same stuff on the walk here, too,” said Tina.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It’s coming together, just like I thought.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Carlos.

  “I know what’s up,” I said. “I’m not gonna say exactly what, because you won’t believe me, but the same stuff is gonna keep happening. Just watch.”

  “Got it: you’re dumb,” said Tina, barreling ahead.

  School was much the same as the day before. We got the math homework back. I got a 4/10. Then we got assigned a huge problem set, and we all groaned super loud. We lied to Mrs. Forch about where we were in the Lewis & Clark documentary. Another “Parts of the Cell” quiz. Carlos got the answers from someone in first period, but I still wasn’t sure about “Golgi body,” so I went with “Biteomatic.” We pretended to sing a song from The Little Mermaid. Carlos and Tina seemed very surprised by these developments, but I wasn’t because I’m like light years ahead of them.

  At lunch, I calmly accepted my tummy ache because I’m tough like that and I knew it was coming.