Coin Heist by Elisa Ludwig

what I find out, okay?” She gave me a wink and my head spun with rage. Don’t get cutesy with me. This is my life we’re talking about. My one break.
    If there was no money, I’d be back at Jansen. I’d be back with my homies, yeah, but I’d have no future. Might as well shoot me, because my life would be over anyway.
    Later, as we filed into art class, Rankin handed back our Mint projects. I’d made a blueprint of the production floor we’d seen on our field trip, with all the machines and everything. I was pretty proud of it—we had only spent an hour there, but I’d been able to recreate the entire place from memory. On my paper was a pink Post-It note—Rankin didn’t like writing on our “work”—with a red C. A stinking C? Under it he'd written, This is a great rendering, Benny, but next time, try to use your imagination.
    It was the first C I’d gotten at HF, and it was one more slap in the face.
    I didn’t need my imagination, I wanted to tell him. I was a mechanic, and I could fix a car in my sleep. Nothing imaginary about that. And by the way? All of this art stuff was bullshit.
    But what did it matter now? I was leaving. I’d never see any of these people again. Maybe that was for the best.
    Instead of relief, though, I was just worried. I still had no idea how I was going to tell my grandparents. Maybe if I waited long enough, the school would call and do it for me. Even then, they’d still be devastated. This was their dream—they were getting old and they didn’t have much else—and it was about to be smashed.
    I sank down in the first empty seat I saw and stared into space, thinking. If Rankin thought I was gonna pay attention to his lectures about lines and fonts now, he was crazy. I could barely even enjoy looking at Dakota, I was so low. You know times are desperate when a girl in tight jeans can’t fix it.
    â€œI don’t think that would work,” whispered this little girl with glasses sitting next to me. She was tiny, looked like she was twelve or something, and she always had some crazy hat on. I’d seen her around the halls, but we didn’t have any other classes together. I think her name was Alicia, or Alice, or something. “You’d need at least three people. One to work remotely, and two for the haul. And, to be frank, I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with this.”
    The guy she was huddled with was the headmaster’s kid. Jason. He shrugged. “I just think it’s interesting that it could be done. I think there’s potential there.”
    â€œPotential for what?” she asked quietly.
    â€œI don’t know. To get some money, funds, for whatever we need.”
    My ears perked up.
    â€œYou’re serious,” she said. She was smiling this funny half-smile.
    Were they talking about pulling some job? Something illegal? These two? That was hi- larious .
    â€œIt’s a victimless crime,” he said. “No one will lose anything, because that money wouldn’t technically exist. It’s not really stealing—it’s more like adapting it for our needs.”
    â€œBut isn’t that what fundraising is for?”
    â€œYeah, well, it’s worse than you think,” he said. “What’s happening here. I happen to know some stuff, and it doesn’t look good.”
    Her voice dropped to an even lower whisper, but I could still hear her. “So you’re saying you want to try it. For real. The Mint. For HF.”
    Time to make myself known. “So what’s the scheme?”
    They both whipped their heads around guiltily. The headmaster’s kid grimaced, his mouth a tight little line. “No scheme. I’m kidding,” he said. “It’s a joke. Ha.”
    â€œYou sounded pretty real to me,” I said.
    He looked surprised, maybe because I was Invisible Man and they hadn’t even realized