“So what’s taking so long?” says Tiggor. “Are you gonna do it or not, because I ain’t got all day.”

“Hey, this is a delicate procedure,” I tell him. “The Schwa’s gotta get himself mentally prepared.”

Tiggor gave an apelike grunt. I took the Schwa aside. “Just remember, I’ll be right outside. If you need help, you signal to me and I’ll be there in a second.”

“I know you will, Antsy. Thanks.”

I swear, it felt like he was going off to war and not into some cranky old geezer’s place. The thing is, none of the other dares had the Schwa venturing into the unknown, unless you count the locker room. Crawley, even without ever being seen, was scary—and who knew if any of those Afghans were trained to kill.

I went around back with him, where a fire-escape ladder led up to the building’s second story. Old Man Crawley’s apartment was huge, filling the whole second floor—the only way in was through the restaurant itself—but by looking down from the roof of an apartment building a few blocks away, we had learned that there was a little courtyard patio in the middle of his apartment, open to the sky. That would be our point of entry.

The stench of yesterday’s lobster wafted out of the Dumpster behind the restaurant, smelling like a fish market on a hot day, or my aunt Mona (trust me, you don’t wanna know). Ignoring the smell, we hopped up to the lip of the Dumpster so we could reach the fire-escape ladder. I gently pulled it down, trying to keep it from squeaking. The Schwa climbed on.

“Stealth is wealth,” I said to him, which has been our little good-luck phrase ever since we started taking dares.

“Stealth is wealth,” he said back. We punched knuckles, and he climbed up, disappearing onto the roof. I crossed the street and waited at the edge of the bay with the others.

Tiggor looked at the windows of Crawley’s place, then looked at me. “So what do we do now?”

I shrugged. “We wait.”

Turns out we didn’t have to wait long. Although I wasn’t there to see what happened, it probably went something like this:

The Schwa jumps down into the little enclosed patio filled with gravel, and more dog crap than you ever want to see in one place. A door is ajar so the dogs can come and go from the patio as they please. This is the door the Schwa slips into.