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we trust him?”
    Vince shook his head. We both knew it was a good question. I didn’t like the idea of handing over my business to someone who might dirty its reputation. Then again, Jimmy, despite being weird, did seem to have things mostly in order. And he had gone through the trouble of making sure we were on board.
    I pointed this out to Vince and he agreed. Besides, if Jimmy was untrustworthy, then he’d probably start his own business either way. So we might as well start out on his good side regardless. Especially if there was some mostly risk-free money to be made along the way.
    â€œI mean, really,” I added, “making this deal is sort of our way of really getting out, right? If we hand over the business to someone else, then that’s it. We’re done except for the small franchise fee we’ll be getting. This is what we wanted. . . .”
    Vince nodded slowly. “Yeah, and then also all of these kids’ problems can get fixed, too. We won’t get harassed all day and have to feel so guilty all the time. Mac, this kid just made us an offer we can’t refuse.”
    â€œSo we’re saying we’ll give him the okay, then? It all makes sense, but it just feels so . . . weird.”
    â€œIt’s like my grandma says, ‘Nugget.’”
    I waited. Vince just looked at me evenly.
    â€œThat’s it? ‘Nugget’?”
    â€œYeah, some days she just wanders around the house saying ‘nugget’ over and over again. It’s weird.”
    I grinned and shook my head and then signaled to Jimmy.
    He rejoined us at the table. “So what’s the deal, bros?”
    â€œMake it fifteen percent of the profits and you got yourself a deal,” Vince said before I could respond.
    Jimmy looked at each of us with his best poker face. Then a smile slowly spread across it. “All right, it’s a deal, dudes!”
    He held out his hand and we all shook on it. Then we got down to the business of discussing the intricacies of the East Wing boys’ bathroom, the fourth stall from the high window, and most important, the method of payment for our cut of the green stuff.

I ’ll fast-forward a few weeks here to spare you on the boring stuff. That’s right, for two whole weeks nothing bad or crazy had happened to us. In fact, boring is about the only way I can describe the first two weeks following our deal with Jimmy. Or normal. Either word works.
    But I’m not complaining. I mean, I loved it. Now that I was truly out, life couldn’t have been better. Kids had even stopped coming to me to plead for help within days of our arrangement with Jimmy.
    It didn’t take long for the word to spread about Jimmy reopening my business. And apparently he hadn’t been joking around: he was pretty good at it. The kids I’d talked to all said he was fast, fair, and efficient. I even heard he got JJ Molina his Roberto Clemente rookie card back. Some kids seemed to think Jimmy might even be better at running the business than I had been. Which was annoying. . . . I mean, it’s like Jimmy said, building the bike is harder than riding it. But, whatever. If they were all happy, then I was happy. Especially since Jimmy was cutting Vince and me in on all of his profits just like he’d promised. He was making the cash drops right on schedule, every Monday and Thursday like clockwork.
    We had a pretty good system for the drops, too. One of Jimmy’s guys would package our cut and wrap it in sealed plastic, like in a Ziploc sandwich bag. Then with the cash hidden in his shirt he would go into the North Wing boys’ bathroom at 12:02, just after lunch had started. He’d stash the money in the bottom of the trash can underneath wads of used paper towels. A place where no sane, unsuspecting kid would ever randomly decide to stick an arm into.
    Then at 12:05 Fred would enter the bathroom and retrieve the