The Great Heist of '16

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TragicTrees

TragicTrees

Matchmaker of Ants
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Pedro had left his project in school. Now, usually this wouldn't be a BAD thing, but today was the absolute last day to do it. He couldn't afford a zero at this point, after getting one earlier in the year. His teacher, Miss Brooks, wouldn't accept an excuse, either, so he'd have to get the project.

Which came with a problem of it's own. The school had no after school programs, sports or not. So, basically, he'd have to sneak in, which was downright terrifying. Really, who sneaks into their own school? It was absurd. And doing it alone? Downright crazy. So, he had a plan.

He leaned against a tree, tugging out his phone and dialing a friend. Yes, he needed to phone a friend for this. He was going to do multiple, but a huge group? They'd get caught. So, he wasn't about to call more than one. He lifted his phone to his ear, whistling while he waited. Hopefully they wouldn't get pissed at him. That would be the worst, because then they'd be reluctant to help.

Well, they'd help anyway. It wasn't as if Pedro was going to let them NOT help. He needed this. He needed the nice grades. He needed a detention-free school year. Without this, he'd probably be grounded, also, and that was absolutely no fun.

@Crono
 
Sal exhaled, slumping into his office chair with relief. Finally, done with his homework and time to spend the rest of the day on finally beating Super Meat Boy. While the bespectacled teen was often referred to as 'the guy you want to copy answers off of,' Miss Brooks had been baring down on the class with enough work for even him to have trouble with. But that was all water under the bridge, it was time to enjoy his Thursday.

Sal had only just turned his Xbox on when suddenly his phone vibrated loudly on his desk. He checked it, Pablo. Sal had known him since third grade, and eternally wished he was more social then. The man was a loose cannon, always roping Sal into another one of his elaborate scemes to boost his grades or pick up the new girl in class, all of which almost always ended up in failure. Sal rolled his chair up to face his TV as he got and answered the phone. "For the last time Marilyn doesn't and never will like you, the brick to the head was a pretty clear message."
 
He whistled lowly "Ouch. And here I thought we were friends. Buddies. Amigos. Who, you know,helped each other out with things." He replied, adding a overdramatic sigh to the end of his statement "Besides, I've moved on to oggling at Dean. He's hot. But, that's not why I'm calling! You wound me, sal, my pal. What if I just want to talk?"

Of course, it was pretty obvious Pedro didn't want to talk, if his excessive use of different forms of 'friend' was anything to go by. No, he wanted something. And, he was sure he could get Sal to help him out.
 
Multiple synonyms for freinds, not a good sign. Mention of help, a worst sign. Sal had never fully acquainted himself with Pedro's sexuality, it just wasn't something the teen thought about as it hadn't really effected their friendship. "Oh right, I forgot you like guys who can just punch my brains out as well."

Right, Pedro just wanting to talk. Why couldn't he find his controller? "Well that's a lie. I just finished my homework man, make this quick."
 
"Dean couldn't punch your brains out! Sure, nice abs and all, but not really possible to do that. Well, I think." Pedro replied, shrugging a bit even though he knew the other didn't see him "And me? A liar? That's slander!"

He paused a bit "But, you know, yea, okay. Look, so you know that project we had to do? The science one? Part in class, part out of class, today's the last day and Miss Brooks will freak out if we don't have it? That one? You know it, riggghhht?" If he set this up right, he could possibly guilt trip his friend into helping. Awful as it may sound, he needed this.
 
Sal's sigh was audible from the other end of the call. "You left it at school didn't you? Well that's it my friend, your done, finished, the great crescendo of your life is playing. Your dead, so dead in fact that your going to die, come back to life, then die again. Miss Brooks is going to sacrifice you on her desk and then your parents are going to literally ground you, like bury you alive ground you. Speaking of which you owe me like forty bucks."
 
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"Okay, well-" he scowled "Whoa there, amigo, forty? Are you running deals with interest or something? Where did forty come from? The conversation of my death is on pause until we discuss this." he said "Because I do not remember this forty bucks. And, if I'm sacrificed, you won't get it!"
 
Finally finding the controller Sal fell into his seat, allowing his chair to tip back into a diagonal position and resting his feet on a nearby stool. "First, remember when we agreed I would charge you 25 cents every time you needed to copy my work? Well that's ten dollars. The 'Double Date' with Alex, in which you only brought me along to pay for it promising you would pay me back later and never did, is the other thirty. I would like it payed back in full before you are killed so I don't have to forge your last will and testament."
 
"....Okay. Cool. Neat-o complete-o, and all that jazz." he paused, before grinning "But I'm not dying today, no siree. I have a plan. Fool-proof, absolutely genius! And I need my bestest buddy ever to help me not get sacrificed to the gods of biology! Whaddya say, Sal? Go on a adventure with me into the unknown? I'll owe you one!"

He owed Sal already lots of ones. If you added up all the ones, there would probably be over 100 ones. And while that was a bit much, he needed every single bit of help he got from the guy. He wasn't using him; no way! He'd pick someone in his class if he was planning on just using someone. Sal was just great, and if he was going to break into a school room, he'd rather it be with someone he liked than with just another random kid.
 
There was a long pause. Sal registered what his friend had just said. "Not in a million years. One we'll be arrested instantaneously, two," another pause, Sal felt a chill up his back, he spoke in a slightly hushed tone, "you've heard about the Custodian right?" Sal was a very rational person, but that didn't mean certain rumors didn't scare him.
 
"Yes, and I've also heard of the pool on the roof. You know what they have in common? Neither is confirmed as something that actually exists and they aren't relevant!" He yawned, covering his mouth for a moment, before continuing "Sure, yes, the custodian is likely real, but lets keep in mind that they won't kick us to hell and back! 'Sides, they're probably old, man, they won't NOTICE us. C'mon, please? I'll do anything."

Well, maybe anything was a stretch. He'd do most things, depending on if he deemed it on the same level as this task.
 
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Sal felt foolish and perhaps a little guilty that he was not going to help his friend because of a rumor. Even if he was a nutcase Pablo had been though thick and thin with Sal and the teen valued his friendship greatly. "No Pablo, there is no force on this Earth that will make me-" a yell came from downstairs, "SWEETIE ARE YOU READY FOR CLARINET PRACTICE? ITS IN TWO HOURS!"

A silent damning of a clarinet teacher came before Sal wispered into the phone, "you are so, so lucky to have me as a friend, understand?" And then the teen yelled back to his mother, "I CAN'T MAKE IT MOM, I'M STAYING OVER AT PABLO'S PLACE FOR A STUDY NIGHT!" "ALRIGHT, WHEN ARE YOU LEAVING?" A quick wisper back into the phone, "when do we start?"
 
You could practically hear the boy grinning through the phone "How about in thirty minutes? That good for you?" he said "I mean, it'll get you out of clarinet practice. And that's good, riiiiight?"

"And yes, I love you as a friend, and I'm ever so grateful to have you around, I'd be dead without you and those forty dollars I owe you. Golly gee, you are the bomb, the bees knees." He added, pleased that Sal was actually helping. He had been worried for a second that he seriously wouldn't.
 
"Uh huh. I'll see you there. We're staying at your place after this heist of yours." With that he called out the time to his mom, ended the call, and looked longingly at the last level of Super Meat Boy. "One day you accursed red rectangle," he swore with vengeance before turning the XBox off and beginning to look for his darkest clothes.
 
Pedro closed his flip phone, and shoved it in his pocket. Great! This was perfect. He made his way to a bench outside the school gate and sat down. Now, it was only a matter of waiting.

So, at this point, it may look like Pedro was a horrible student. And, well, the assumption wouldn't be wrong. He was. And he accepted that. But, it wasn't just that he didn't want to. He was a busy man, and did many things, such as help out with plays, and various other school events. He didn't have enough time for working on homework.

Okay, so, that was a bit untrue. Maybe, just a little, it was also that he wasn't too eager to do it. But that wasn't the full reason.
 
The sun had almost set when Sal arrived at the high school. He had chosen against driving there since when the police inevitably caught them his car wouldn't be impounded. Fariwether High glowered down at him like a giant, the nippy Fall air like a cold breath. Ok he was terrified. His mother was a sweet woman when she wasn't yelling, and her demanding that he go to the hellish clarinet practices was only so that he would have something to fall back on. His father however was a different story.

Sal shook at the thought of his father learning that his son was arrested for breaking and entering. The teen would be flayed with a spoon. He was dressed in a black shirt and his darkest pants, he walked up to his friend. "I do hate this weather. I would like to know that foolproof plan of yours now."
 
Pedro patted the seat beside him, looking like a absolute mess. He didn't really even try to look nice, outfit a bit cockeyed, and hair messier than ever.

"Well, my friend, have a seat, and we'll discus my awesome, foolproof plan o' mine. And it's amazing, so don't worry. You'll love it." he replied, grinning brightly "Absolutely nothing will go wrong!"
 
Sal rubbed his temples as he sat down. A headache had triggered as soon as Pedro said nothing could go wrong. "Don't say that. Every single time you've said that something has gone wrong."
 
"Spoilsport. Not every single time. Well survive, I promise! All were doing is going through a window. You know, Miss Darcy's one. That's literally always open." He replied, shifting to pat the other boys back. That was, likely, supposed to be comforting. Chances were, though, that it wasn't. At all.
 
Sal looked over to Pablo, waiting for something else. A long pause. "Please don't tell me," he rubbed his face, "that that is the entire plan."
 
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