As Tyler continued, Clark started taking notes. He brought out a pencil and paper and sketched the buildings along Market Street; from our perspective they seemed small and easily scalable, like obstacles in a video game. Most stores were crammed side by side, but General Tso’s was separated from its neighbor by a narrow alley.
“You’ll need to hop across the alley,” Tyler explained. “That’ll put you on the bike shop. They use their second floor for inventory, so you can be as loud as you want. And then you just walk east. Bike shop, travel agency, Zelinsky’s. He uses his second floor for inventory, too. Old typewriters and shit. So you don’t have to worry about noise.”
I turned to Alf and whispered: “How does he know all this?”
“I worked there last summer,” Tyler explained. “Now, you see that bump on the roof? The little square box? That’s an exit hatch. Zelinsky keeps it locked from the inside, but the whole door has gone to shit. The wood’s rotten, the hinges are rusted. You could probably pry it off with your bare hands. With a crowbar it’ll take two seconds.”
At last I understood he was describing a burglary. “Are you kidding? You guys want to steal the magazines?”
A moment passed, and no one said anything.
“Well,” Clark reasoned, “technically it’s not stealing if we pay for them. We could leave money in the cash register. Four dollars for every copy we take.”
“Then we fix the hatch on our way out,” Alf said. “We’ll bring a screwdriver and we’ll put the hinges back on.”
“No,” I said. “No way.”
“Why not?” Tyler asked.
“Because Alf just gave you twenty bucks! Why don’t you just walk into a store and buy the magazine for him?”
“That would be illegal,” Tyler said.
“This is illegal,” I said. “You’re telling us to break into Zelinsky’s and steal the magazine.”
I don’t know where I found the courage to challenge Tyler Bell. He looked like he was ready to push me off the roof. But someone had to say something. His “plan” was ridiculous. It was straight out of Mission: Impossible.
And my friends were hooked.
“It’s not stealing if we pay for them,” Clark repeated.
“Yes, it is,” I said.
“Nobody will ever know,” Alf said. “Zelinsky finds some extra money in his cash register. We bring home Vanna White. It’s a win-win.”
“Exactly,” Tyler said. Clark finished his sketch and held it up for review. Tyler looked it over and nodded his approval. “That’s the plan right there. Three easy steps.”
I turned to Tyler and made one last plea for sanity. “Look, what’s in this for you? Why are you hanging with three freshmen on a Friday night?”
Clark drew in his breath, like my questions were unspeakably rude. “Jesus, Billy, he’s being nice.”
Tyler didn’t seem offended. “I’m just killing time, chief. I’m meeting my friends at eleven thirty, and I figured I’d help you guys while I wait.” He said this all very matter-of-factly, but the explanation stopped me cold: Tyler Bell was so badass, he didn’t start hanging out until eleven thirty! “But if you guys don’t want my help . . .”
“We do, we do!” Clark insisted.
“Let’s go right now,” Alf said. “Let’s go tonight!”
“There’s just one problem,” Tyler said. “Zelinsky has the whole store wired. Front door, windows, and the roof hatch. So as soon as you pop it open, the alarm gets tripped. You’ve got sixty seconds to turn it off or the whole place lights up like the Fourth of July. Sirens, flashers, the works.”
Down below, a police cruiser slowly drifted along Market Street. Even though we couldn’t be seen, we all stopped talking until it reached a safe distance.
“How do we turn off the alarm?” Alf asked.
“There’s a little keypad near the front door. Says ‘Ademco Security.’ You enter a pass code, and that’s the problem. I don’t know it.”
“Who does?”
“Just Zelinsky. And his daughter, Mary.” Tyler turned to Clark. “That’s where you come in.”
Clark blinked. “Me?”
“You need to smooth-talk her, Pretty Boy. Make her trust you.”
Even though it was pitch dark on the roof of the train station, I knew Clark was blushing. “I can’t smooth-talk anyone.”
“Sure you can. You’re a good-looking guy. You wear nice clothes. You’re polite. If you had a little more confidence, you’d be getting tons of pussy.”
Clark held up his claw. “What about this?”
“That’s your secret weapon!” Tyler said. “You show Mary that ugly flipper every chance you get. Because it makes her trust you, understand? It makes her feel safe.”
Clark wasn’t having any of it. He was so shy around girls, he’d cross the street to avoid walking past one.
“Just hear me out,” Tyler continued. “Mary works at the store every afternoon. And this chick is horny like a baboon, all right? I had to beat her back with a stick. She couldn’t keep her hands off me. She is desperate for action.”
“I’m not . . . I don’t want action with her,” Clark said.
“Just hang out,” Tyler said. “Talk with her, tell some jokes. Act like she’s interesting. Take her to the movies, play with her hair, kiss her—”
“I’m not kissing her,” Clark said. “I want the magazine. Really, I do. But I’m not kissing her.”
“Then we’re done,” Tyler said, rising to his knees. “And thanks for wasting my time. I thought you guys were serious.”
“We are!” Alf said. “We’re very serious!”
“Then you need the code,” Tyler insisted.
By this point, I was wishing I’d never left my house. Tyler’s plan was ridiculous. Its chances of working were zero. Any girl smart enough to program “Invisible Touch” on a C64 would never be stupid enough to give up the security code to her father’s store. We had climbed all the way to the top of the train station for nothing.
“I won’t do it,” Clark insisted. “I’m sorry.”
“Then I’ll do it,” Alf said grudgingly. “I won’t enjoy it, and I’ll have nightmares for life. But I’ll suffer for the greater good.”
Tyler shook his head. “She’s fat, but she’s not blind. It’s got to be Bryan Adams here.”
Clark didn’t look anything like Bryan Adams, but I knew what Tyler meant; he had the natural good looks of someone you’d expect to see on a concert stage. Whereas Alf looked like the sweaty kid working the concert concession stand, selling soft pretzels and Polish sausage.
“I’m not doing it,” Clark said.
They kept arguing back and forth, but I knew Clark wouldn’t budge; he might be willing to rob a store, but he was too kind to risk hurting someone’s feelings. I wanted to get off the roof and go home. I wanted to get back to programming my game. And that’s when I had my big idea—the stupid brainstorm that set this whole sad story in motion.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
“You?” Tyler asked.
“Really?” Clark said.
“Yeah, I can do it,” I said. “I’ll get the code.”