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out the door. “Room 241—three doors down, after the custodian’s closet.”
    K.O. Pest Control was a storefront operation on Poplar Street, which bordered the east side of Three Alarm Park.
    Marcus propped his bike on its kickstand and approached the entrance gingerly. The giant metal cockroach that hung over the front door wasn’t exactly welcoming. But the needle-nosed face that appeared was even less so.
    â€œYou! What do you want?”
    Marcus held out a white envelope containing his mother’s check for $310 in payment for the broken window. “I brought your money, Mr. Oliver. Like I said before, sorry about what happened.”
    The exterminator tore open the seal and examined the contents carefully. “I hope this is better than the telephone number you gave me.”
    Marcus swallowed an angry retort. This guy may be an idiot, but he didn’t ask to have his window broken .
    â€œAnyway, I’m glad there are no hard feelings.”
    â€œYou kids kill me,” Oliver snarled. “It’s no big deal to bust things up, but when it’s time to pay for what you’ve done, you run straight to Mommy.”
    Marcus took a deep breath. “Well, I don’t have that kind of money, so if you want to get paid, you’d better take it from my mom.”
    â€œAre you trying to be smart with me?” Oliver demanded.
    â€œI can’t believe you!” Marcus finally exploded. “I could have run away after I broke your window! But I did the right thing—and now you’re insulting me for it?”
    â€œYou punk!” the exterminator roared. “Get away from my place of business. Who do you think you are? I never want to see you—”
    From out of nowhere, a clod of earth sailed through the air and made violent contact with the giant metal cockroach over the door. It exploded into a million pieces, raining dirt and bits of grass down on Kenneth Oliver. He glared at Marcus in outrage.
    â€œYou can’t blame that on me,” Marcus defended himself. “I’m standing right here in front of you.”
    â€œYou think I’m stupid?” the exterminator sputtered. “You lousy kids run in packs! For all I know, every tree on this block has one of your delinquent friends crouched behind it!”
    â€œWhat friends?” Marcus demanded. “Everyone in town is about as welcoming as you !” And he stormed away, boiling with fury. If he stuck around, he’d only end up with Officer Deluca again. Sixteen years in Olathe had produced fewer ugly confrontations than Marcus had experienced during less than a month in photogenic Kennesaw.
    Troy and his minions were bad enough, but this guy Oliver was a new low. How paranoid did you have to be to believe that Marcus had packed the street with hidden accomplices preparing to unleash an artillery barrage of dirt bombs?
    â€œMac—over here.”
    â€œHuh?” Marcus looked around. There, concealed in the brush at the edge of Three Alarm Park, was Charlie.
    Instantly, he knew whose unerring arm had thrown the missile.
    â€œWhat were you doing over there with Old Man Dingley?” Charlie whispered loudly.
    â€œPaying for the window you broke,” Marcus shot back. “And who’s Dingley? The guy’s name is Kenneth Oliver. Your half comes to a hundred and fifty-five bucks, by the way.”
    â€œNo problem,” Charlie said airily.
    â€œYes problem. My mom laid out that cash, and she has to get paid back. It doesn’t have to be this minute, but it has to be.”
    â€œDone,” Charlie murmured absently, but his eyes never left Kenneth Oliver’s storefront across the street. “That guy needs to be taught a lesson.”
    â€œI got hauled in by the cops because of him. Do me a favor—no more bombing his pest-control shop.”
    â€œPest control,” Charlie mused. “That makes it easy. We’ll sugar