The walk to Jimmy’s house was treacherous as always. The closer we got, the more obvious it became why we usually spend all our time at my parents. Besides the lack of parental supervision or a cleaning schedule, the street he was on was rougher, more full of holes. The trees were limper, the sidewalks uneven. All of the traps he set didn’t help matters either.

So it’s all come down to this. I always knew it would. It always happens to the heroes. This is the part of the story where nobody believes you, where your stupid best friend turns his back on you, tries to replace you. This is the part where the hero is persecuted for doing the right thing. Like Gandi. Like Ida B. Wells, Wreck-it Ralph. Like Jesus, if he had fought crime instead of preaching and making shelves.

My family first moved here when I was in the sixth grade. I didn’t know anyone at all, we lived across the border in Wisconsin for my whole life until that point. I was from a small town, so small that even Villa Park looked big in comparison.

I quickly but thoroughly washed up in the bathroom and put on my best shirt. It was a red-and-white striped one, one which Jimmy said made me look like a raggedy American flag. My mom always said it looked nice on me though, and I figured the opinion of a girl, even one as old and uncool as my mom, was probably more valid than Jimmy’s. And I wanted this other girl to like it too.

There it was, looming before me once more. The stench of evil still clung heavily on the air all around me. The stink of it tried to latch onto me, attempting to cling to my clothing and my sweet, sweet body. Like Taylor Swift, I expertly shook it all off. Nice try evil, but you’re not going to get me to break. I'll never quit. I don’t even know the meaning of the word quit. Seriously, what the hell does that word even mean? Never heard it before, it must be some kind of foreign word, maybe French or something? Nice try France, but that won’t work either. This is America, and I am a man on a mission. 

Stupid JB. Stupid, ugly JB. Stupid, ugly, smelly betrayer JB. He’ll see. Everyone will see. Just wait. 

“I’m so sorry,” I told Nancy, my face a dark beet red. “My friend, I don’t think he took his medication today. Let me help you clean up.” I bent over and started to pick up the spent staples and bits of paper from the floor. As I did so, Lizzy went over and plucked a tissue from the large pile on the desk, offering it to the sobbing woman in the kitten sweater. “I’m sorry you’re crying,” she said. “I like your sweater.”

I bravely led the way into the foreboding shelter. It was dark, creepy, ominous. The building always had a vacant and haunted feel to it, even when it was full of happy, barking puppies. I immediately picked up on a sinister sensation wafting on the air. Yup, I thought to myself. This place has the stink of evil alright. I waited patiently for my assistants to catch up, which was the natural downside of being the most agile and fit person in any group.

After getting some snacks from the nearest 7/11, Jimmy was a lot less cranky and he stopped monologuing about how ugly and deformed I was. We promised to meet up again later and I rushed home to use the phone.

The hollow plastic tube echoed loudly as I tapped my foot rapidly and repeatedly against the wall of our clubhouse. I scoffed, huffed, then scoffed again. I’d never seen JB act so weird, so lazy, so stupid, so, so, so different before. What has gotten into him this summer?

The walk around town was a little bit awkward. Actually, thinking back, that walk may have been the longest amount of time that Jimmy had ever gone without speaking, and that includes when he sleeps.

It took almost the entirety of the hike to the clubhouse before I was calmed enough to start telling JB the full scoop from my meeting with Mr. Krause. I still couldn’t believe it all myself. A bad detective? Me? I knew that our principal was getting older, but I thought that he still had a couple of good years left before his mind went completely. Poor guy. Having to add senility to the list of bald, old and annoying, I couldn’t help but feel a little pang of sympathy for the simpleton.