I tried, honest I did, to settle into my new role and figure out a name for it. Pariah kept coming to mind, but I knew it didn’t mean quite what I thought it did. Nobody else gave me a hard time, cause the one time Zack did Chris bruised his arm and his ego. And as basically our gang’s accountant, Zack doesn’t have much of an ego to start with.

The first test though of my new untouchable status came with Young when he dropped by our place.

“Yer bro have any half-decent shirts, runt?”

I shrugged and nodded towards the laundry room. If there were any, that’s where they’d be. But since when did Young want anything close to a decent shirt?

“Young,” I grunted, my eyes still on the T.V., some dumb sitcom rerun where life is perfect and happy, “Whassup?”

He sauntered back out, inspecting a red button-down, “Aaron needs a hand with a…project.” He cut himself off and struggled into the shirt.

My eyes lit up. A project was code for a scam. They were always fun, always made money, and I wanted in.