"So, how 'bout it, Ellington?" Bobby had questioned when Joseph slipped up, and spilt all the beans about his irrelevant chat with Lark Reyes. Adjacent, Bobby stood with his back to Lark's locker, waiting patiently for the last hell of the day to ring.

"I don't care what you do, man. Just leave me out of it." Jospeh tried his best to step away, but Bobby caught his shoulder in one hand, sending a scornful look.

"Why?" Bobby asked, stepping closer. "You've got a thing for him?"

Jospeh arose a brow at this. "Don't be gross, Stinger. And once again—I don't give a crap, just leave me out of it." Jospeh wanted absolutely nothing to do with Bobby's villain-like plan.

When Joseph had walked into the hallway due to forgetting his Spanish textbook, Bobby had asked him if he wanted to participate in a prank against the guy who was obsessed with Andy Phillips—that boy was Lark. When Joseph had shrugged, Bobby went on, explaining the details and precautions.

A bucket full of paint at the eighth grade dance next month, he boasted. Everyone'll be there to watch him get drenched in red shit. After hearing him out—even Joseph could admit, Bobby was one evil genius. But still—there was no way he could risk getting caught if he played along.

But that didn't stop Bobby, who went on to say that even if Joseph didn't lend a hand, that Lark would still be drenched in blaring, red paint by the end of the dance.

But of course—Joseph didn't care, why would he care. From the hints Lark had given him yesterday; Andy Philips should be the one who cared.

"Alright then," Bobby smirked. "With or without you—operation Reyes is officially a go."