The Great Greene Heist: List 1

As Jackson Greene sped past the Maplewood Middle School cafeteria—his trademark red tie skewed slightly to the left, a yellow No. 2 pencil balanced behind his ear, and a small spiral-bound notebook tucked in his right jacket pocket—he found himself dangerously close to sliding back into the warm confines of scheming and pranking.

As Jackson Greene sped past the Maplewood Middle School cafeteria—his trademark red tie skewed slightly to the left, a yellow No. 2 pencil balanced behind his ear, and a small spiral-bound notebook tucked in his right jacket pocket—he found himself dangerously close to sliding back into the warm confines of scheming and pranking.

Or maybe he could just forge a pass from the main office.

He was almost finished pruning one of the peony bushes when he heard footsteps.

“According to my sources, there’s some loophole that allows the school to extend the deadline in special circumstances.”

“I don’t think so. But word’s beginning to spread. She’ll find out soon enough.” He paused to stifle another sneeze. “So what’s the plan?” he asked, wiping his nose.

Jackson rose from his crouch, then helped Charlie to his feet. “And I don’t plan cons anymore. Period.”

“That doesn’t matter. I still need to put a platform together,” she said. “‘Rule Number One: No matter how simple a job looks, always plan before you act. A poorly constructed plan usually yields undesirable results.’”

Wilton Jones stood in the middle of the atrium, massaging his fingers.

The guys were trying out a new first-person shooter, and he wanted to make sure his hands were limber.

They’d started the school year with an influx of new members—all thanks to Keith Sinclair.

Naomi walked into the atrium and made a beeline toward Wilton.

“Gaby’s going to be tough to beat. A lot of people like her, and ever since the Blitz at the Fitz—”
“Jackson rigged that game!”

Dr. Kelsey placed the form on his desk and rose from his chair, hoping that a subtle shift in height would remind Keith who was really in charge.

“One more thing. Have you read the Student Council bylaws lately? Dad had one of his lawyers go over them last year, when I was having all that trouble with the Tech Club.”

It contained an Omnitask 3000 multicore processor, tri-band Wi-Fi technology, two GPS chips, a twenty-megapixel camera with zoom and flash, voice recognition software, Bluetooth, an accelerometer, a gyroscope, and a slide-out keyboard.

Pickable or not, the Guttenbabel 4200 was a thing of beauty, and he didn’t want to scuff it up.

“Not if they don’t reach quorum. In those instances, the Executive Council can pass rules on Student Council’s behalf. That includes budgets.” He placed his bowl on top of a stack of technical journals. “That’s exactly what happened last year.”

Hashemi clasped his hands together like he was praying for divine intervention.

Inspired by his own upbringing, he chose to cook traditional Southern soul food dishes—except, at the request of his wife, with less fat and more vegetables.

So as Jackson hacked away at his “traditional but healthy” meal of “extra-blackened” fried catfish, soggy sweet peas, and mushy brown rice, he wondered if he would be better off with the Maplewood chicken enchiladas.

“I told your mother this earlier—I have to jet to DC to debrief HQ on the Bellingham case next week. Just a quick day trip.” As a special agent for the IRS Criminal Investigation Division, Donald Greene often traveled, especially when he was working on a major case.

“Turns out Bellingham used a network of pizza delivery boys to launder his drug money.”

“Allegedly,” Jackson and his father said at the same time.
Miranda Greene rolled her eyes. “A job he allegedly pulled, when he was trying to get an animal handler to train a...”

“Your father and I both think you should socialize more with your friends. It’s been four months since that...unfortunate incident, and your behavior has been nothing but exemplary.”