Stealing the Game (22 page)

But this isn’t one of those slow-motion, final-shot-at-the-buzzer-to-win stories. We didn’t try to make a philosophical or moral point. We didn’t try to inspire anyone.

We just played basketball.

When it was over, nothing had changed. Masterson was still a jerk. Roger was still a hothead. We didn’t hug, not even the customary hand slaps. The world wasn’t a better, kinder,
gentler place. No lessons were learned.

We just played basketball.

A bunch of kids being kids, playing a game that had no consequences for the future. It wouldn’t be recorded anywhere.

Who won? What color is an orange? Who cares? We didn’t play to entertain the spectators watching from the sidelines who shouted or clapped or winced at every play. We didn’t even
play for you, who are reading about the game. You know by now that I’m not one of those winning-doesn’t-matter-it’s-how-you-play-the-game guys.
I want to win.
But who won
this particular game is a matter only for those who actually played it. Because we weren’t thinking about any world except the world on that seventy-four-by-forty-two-foot greentop court. A
constantly moving world in which everything was happening at once—and everything was at once both predictable and surprising.

We just played basketball.

And it was awesome.

Two minutes after the game was over, Jax arrived.

I was the only one not surprised by what happened next.

MOM
yanked open the door after the first knock. “I’m so sorry for the short notice, Hannah,” she said anxiously. “Chris
only just told us that he has an algebra test tomorrow.” She lowered her voice, but I could still hear it from the kitchen. “I think he’s starting to panic a little.”

I was spying on them through the kitchen door.

Hannah smiled. “Not a problem, Mrs. Richards. But I only have half an hour before I have to meet another student. Why didn’t he say something last night?”

Dad (worried): “He’s been so distracted lately. He didn’t even know about the test until he got home and opened his student planner. That really isn’t like
him.”

Mom: “It’s worth a fourth of his final grade.”

Dad: “He begged us to call you. And he’s not a kid who usually asks for help.”

Hannah: “Then we’d better not waste a second. Kitchen?”

Mom: “Yes.”

I tiptoed quickly back to my chair and sat. My algebra book was open and I pretended to be studying it.

The three of them came through the door, led by Hannah. “Look at you, Chris, so studious,” she said with a smile.

“I try,” I said, smiling back.

That’s when Jax came up behind Mom and Dad, draping his arms over their shoulders like the three of them were singing oldies songs at a party. “Hello, parental units,” he said
brightly. “Ready to be surprised?”

Oh, before we get to Jax’s surprise, you probably want to know what went down at the park after Jax arrived. Here’s what happened:

Jax strolled across the manicured grass carrying a cheap black backpack with some big-eyed Japanese anime boy on it. I guessed the stolen jewelry was inside.

As soon as Fauxhawk saw Jax, he ran over to meet him. At first he barked all kinds of curse words at Jax, asking him why he was late and so on. But he shut up when Jax handed him the
backpack.

They were about twenty feet from the basketball court. Our game was over, so we all stood around, wiping sweat from our faces with the bottoms of our shirts, or drinking from our water bottles.
I was the only one watching Jax and Fauxhawk, though I pretended not to be. I knew what was coming, so it was hard for me to act calm.

Fauxhawk unzipped the bag and rummaged inside without taking anything out. He bent down to study the contents more closely. Finally, he smiled wolfishly, slung the backpack over his shoulder,
and shook Jax’s hand.

“We’re even,” Fauxhawk said.

“Not quite,” Jax said.

Fauxhawk looked confused for a second. During that moment, my brother grabbed Fauxhawk by the wrist, twisted it behind his back, forced him to the ground, knelt on his back with one knee, and
slapped a pair of handcuffs onto his wrists. It all seemed to happen in one swift motion, like a perfectly executed pick-and-roll.

Fauxhawk’s loud curses drew all our attention. A few parents at the playground grabbed their toddlers and carried them to their cars.

“What the—?” Roger said, his mouth hanging open in shock.

“Coach!” Masterson called, and he and the rest of the team started running toward Fauxhawk.

I didn’t know what they were planning to do, so I started running, too.

It wasn’t necessary. A bald guy in his twenties who’d been shooting free throws dropped his ball and ran toward my brother. As he moved, he pulled out a badge from his shorts and
waved it. “Tustin PD!”

A bulky woman in a pink sweatsuit who’d been walking a black Lab also ran over, waving a badge and shouting, “Tustin PD!” The dog trotted obediently beside her.

When we all congregated around my brother; he was pulling Fauxhawk to his feet, saying, “…the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one…”

He had his badge out, too. It was attached to a leather wallet, one flap of which was tucked into his shirt pocket so the shiny gold badge hung down in plain view. But it didn’t look like
the oval Tustin PD badges, which had a big gold scroll across the top that said
POLICE OFFICER
and in the middle two more scrolls that said
TUSTIN
POLICE
.

Jax’s badge was a seven-pointed star. In the middle was the image of a woman clutching a spear and wearing a gladiator helmet. The word
EUREKA
was embossed above
her. Encircling that picture were the words
CALIFORNIA HIGHWAY PATROL
.

Roger, Rain, Tom, and Gee stood behind me watching.

Roger poked me hard in the back. “Dude, since when is your brother a cop?”

After Fauxhawk was driven off in a Tustin PD patrol car (was it one of the same ones we’d hidden under last night?), pick-up arrangements had to be made for the Gold Coasters. The woman
cop with the dog drove Fauxhawk’s van to the police station. Two uniformed officers awaited the arrival of the Gold Coasters’ parents, who would probably be hysterical with worry.

Jax nodded for me to follow him to the parking lot. “I’ve got to head down to the station, bro, but I’ll give you a ride home.”

I said good-bye to my teammates and promised to fill them in tomorrow at school.

In the car I asked to see Jax’s badge. He plucked it from his pocket and handed it to me. “This is cool,” I said, rubbing my fingers across the surface.

“Each point on the star stands for something important to being a Highway Patrol officer: Character, Integrity, Knowledge, Judgment, Honor, Loyalty, and Courtesy.” He looked over at
me. “You have any questions, Chris?”

“I thought the Highway Patrol just did traffic stuff. You know, like wrote speeding tickets on freeways and stuff. Stared at people behind those big hats and dark sunglasses.”

“We do have awesome sunglasses.”

“Can you get me a pair?”

He laughed. “I’ll look into it.”

“So what’s the Highway Patrol doing taking down Fauxhawk?”

“Fauxhawk?”

“Rand.”

“Nice,” he said, chuckling. “The CHP has the power to enforce any state law anywhere in the state. Sometimes we help local cops with investigations by providing outside
personnel for undercover work. Because I was familiar with the neighborhoods and the people, I was assigned to this case.”

“As the loser who dropped out of Stanford? That was your cover?”

“Pretty much. I was supposed to have dropped out because I had a gambling problem.”

“So you could make a big bet with Rand and deliberately lose.”

“Yup. I needed to owe him enough money that once he accepted stolen goods as payment, we’d have a slam-dunk case on him.”

“Yeah, but everything depended on us losing that first game. What would you have done if we’d have won?”

“You
did
have me worried,” he said. “You’ve gotten a lot better since the last time I saw you.”

“You looked pretty worried, but I thought it was because you were scared that we’d lose.”

“My brilliant acting, bro,” he said. “I’d done everything to stack it against you. I told you about the game late so it would be hard for you to get the best players. I
didn’t tell you that they were older and bigger, so you couldn’t prepare. But you still almost took them down.” He grinned proudly at me. “Anyway, if you’d have won, I
would have just made another bet on something else. But that would have delayed the whole operation a few more days.”

“A few more days of lying to Mom and Dad. And me.”

Jax sighed heavily. “Yeah, about that. I’m sorry, man. I had to pretend to drink so Mom and Dad would react normally. This was my first undercover gig, Chris. I had to do it by the
book. I wouldn’t have done it this way if we’d had other options.”

“You did have other options. You could have just told us the truth.”

He gave me a skeptical look. “Really? You think Mom and Dad were ready to hear that I’d decided to ditch law school to become a cop?”

He had a good point. “But you could have told me,” I said.

“If I’d told you, you would’ve had to keep it a secret from Mom and Dad. You’re not built that way, bro. Look how much keeping your comic book stuff from them is eating
you up.”

I didn’t say anything to that. I had to think about it.

“Anyway, the thing is, we knew from CIs that—”

“CIs?”

“Confidential informants. Snitches.”

“Right.”

Jax continued: “We knew that Rand had received the stolen goods from those garage burglaries and was selling them. But we didn’t have enough proof. Now we do.”

I thought about that for a moment, then said, “So our burglary last night wasn’t just about getting the stolen goods, because you could have gotten them from your own
department.”

“We had to make sure Rand thought the stolen jewelry was really stolen.”

“That’s why you deliberately triggered the alarm. You wanted it to be in the newspapers and on the news so Rand would know about it. You wanted the cops to have your photo so Rand
would know it was you.”

“You caught that, huh? Very good.”

“I’ve seen you dribble through an entire team’s defense. I’ve seen you toss a touchdown pass a split second before getting mauled by three offensive players. You
don’t rattle and you don’t trip.”

“I
am
good, aren’t I?”

“Not that good, or I wouldn’t have figured it out.”

He laughed. “Touché, SP.”

“Were the local cops in on it when they showed up at Angelo’s last night?”

He looked over at me, surprised. “Of course. Do you think there’s any way I’d put you in any real danger? Even Angelo helped us with the sting.”

I sighed with disappointment. “So my debut as Master Thief was just smoke and mirrors.”

“Not at all. It was important that the heist looked authentic and not staged. Your breaking through the carpet store’s wall and using the vacuum cleaner was great. When Rand heard
about it, he thought I was some sort of criminal genius. Wanted me to do some more heists for him.”

“What about Officer Crane at school?”

“Yeah, I told him to go at you hard. I wanted the rumor that I was involved to get started there. That way, if Rand checked, he would have more confirmation that I robbed the place.”
He paused to give me a stern look. “I also wanted him to scare you a little, to let you know that breaking into places isn’t a game. It has real consequences. And those consequences
aren’t fun.”

I was about to protest that I wasn’t an idiot, when suddenly my phone buzzed. It was a text from Theo with the information I’d asked for. I smiled. Now I knew the final piece of the
puzzle.

JAX
reached over and mussed my hair. “I have to admit, you scared the crap out of me when you sent that text. ‘I know
everything.’ Pretty melodramatic, dude.”

“Got your attention.”

“Yeah, speaking of that. How’d you figure it all out? I know you didn’t call the CHP, because they would have denied I worked for them.”

“No, I didn’t know anything for sure. I just had suspicions. I guess in the end it was more about who you are, Jax. The whole dropping out of Stanford Law School didn’t make
sense. You’ve never quit anything. That’s not you. Neither is the gambling or the drinking or deliberately making Mom and Dad miserable. Not to mention lying to me.”

He frowned and shook his head sadly. “Sorry about that, Chris. That was the hardest part.”

“After I found out you’d never attended Stanford Law—”

“Yeah, about that. How’d you find out? The CHP went through a lot of trouble to build that alibi in case Rand checked me out.”

I told him about Theo’s calls to the university.

Jax laughed. “I’ll pass that along to my boss so they do a better job next time. Thank goodness Rand isn’t as smart as you and Theo. Go on.”

“So, after I realized you’d never been to Stanford, I wondered what you might have done during that time instead. Dad told me how much you hated injustice as a kid.
‘You’re out of order! You’re out of order! The whole trial is out of order!’ Remember that?”

“Yeah, of course. Al Pacino yelling at the judge and getting hauled off to jail for contempt. Classic scene.”

“I knew you’d still feel that way. You couldn’t have changed that much. So, I started looking at the little things. You’re in better physical shape than ever. That
doesn’t go with being a heavy-drinking dropout with a gambling problem. But it does go with being a cop.”

He made a face. “Weak.”

“Agreed. But once I realized you wanted us to lose that game against the Undertakers, it raised a whole new set of questions. And the answers kept coming back to you still being a good guy
pretending to be bad. Like a secret identity.”

“A little better,” he said.

“Finally, I knew you’d deliberately set off that alarm in the pawnshop. When I asked myself why you’d do that, everything fell into place. You were setting a trap.”