Obviously I do not own anything to do with Ocean's 11. I feel I've been very clear on this point.

Short and hopefully sweet.

He hung the suit in the wardrobe, next to his school uniform, smoothing it out as best he could. The briefcase he carefully hid at the side of his desk, obscured by his clarinet case. It wasn't like he'd touched the thing since he'd quit the marching band anyway. And a briefcase was circumstantial evidence at the very most. In all probability, even if anyone saw it, they wouldn't think anything of it. Not like the deeds of sale or the fake IDs. Those he had to get rid of. Preferably before . . .

There was a pointed cough from the doorway. He froze and held his breath for what seemed like a very, very long time. Nothing to worry about. They couldn't possibly know anything. The most important thing here was to resist the urge to just turn round and scream "I didn't do it!" like he had when he was a little kid. He schooled his face into what felt like an expression of mild surprise and turned round.

His mom was standing in the doorway, and there was a mixture of amusement and enquiry in her smile.

"Hi Mom," he said casually and with his best bashful smile. "You startled me. I thought you and Dad were still out doing the thing."

"We got a phonecall. From Lester."

Oh, so not good. He'd gone to Lester for advice on the fake letterhead.

"Really?" he asked, as innocently as he knew how. "What about?"

She sighed. "Your father would like a word with you. Downstairs. Now."

Busted. He was completely, and totally busted. He could tell.

Keeping a tight grip on his expression of puzzled innocence – just in case – he followed her downstairs. His dad was standing in the living room, staring at the mantelpiece. "Sit," he said, and Linus did. "So," and he turned round and there was sternness and just a hint of disappointment in his level glare. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I didn't do it," he blurted out.

Dad sighed. "Linus. You really have to work on that."

Yeah. He really, really did.

He looked down at the ground and said nothing. Dad sighed again. "You want to talk me through it?"

"It worked!" he pointed out.

"You were lucky," his dad told him and he didn't need to take that.

"It wasn't luck," he protested. "I was good. I was careful."

Dad abruptly turned away from him and stared out the window for a bit. He glanced over at his mom and she gave him a sympathetic look and said nothing. Finally his dad spoke. "You know how I spent this afternoon?"

". . . No," he said hesitantly, but he could guess he wasn't going to like the answer.

"I spent this afternoon persuading Detective O'Dell that your little stunt must have been the work of the Garland Gang."

He frowned. "Who are – "

Dad shook his head dismissively. " – No one you know. No-one real."

"Oh," he said quietly.

"Yes. Oh." Dad swung back round and frowned at him. "They were talking about interviewing disgruntled ex-students. How big a stretch do you think it is to interviewing current students?"

It was a bit of a stretch at least. He had been careful. "I planted enough hints that I was leaving town. They wouldn't be assuming I was local."

"Which is another thing," his dad growled, and Linus could hear the frustration.

Mom stepped further into the room. "You shouldn't be working so close to home, Linus. You know that."

Dad turned and frowned at her. "He shouldn't be working at all, Molly."

"I needed the money," he said quietly.

They both turned and frowned at him. "Why?" Mom asked.

"For a car," he explained. He was desperate to buy one as soon as he turned sixteen. Something big and flashy that he could drive to school in. Something that would make people sit up and take notice.

"We told you no," Dad said immediately.

"You told me you weren't buying me one," he pointed out. "And you're not. I'm buying me one. With my money. You said that would be fine."

"We meant you could save up your allowance," his mom said patiently.

He shrugged. "I thought you'd be happy. I'm taking initiative. Taking responsibility for myself. You know, most parents like it when their kid tries to help support himself."

"You didn't get a part time job; you sold your high school!" Dad sounded exasperated, and Linus still wasn't exactly seeing the problem.

The phone rang and, with a smile that was half apology and half amusement, Mom went to answer it.

"So I got a lot of money and don't have to give up my weekends," he shrugged.

Somehow he'd said the wrong thing. His dad pounced. "You think you got a lot of money?"

He hesitated. "Well . . . yeah." It seemed that way. Oh, he knew it probably wasn't half of what the place was worth, but he'd been playing the development company owner's nephew, naïve, desperate to make a good impression and just a little bit useless.

Dad sighed. "He saw you coming a mile off, Linus. You should have been talking figures at least five times higher."

Oh. Well, that wasn't good. But there was something more. "Are you mad because I sold the school? Or because I didn't sell it well enough?"

Before his dad could do more than blink, his mom poked her head back round the door, the phone handset pressed to her chest. "Saul wants to know if you've heard from the boys lately?" she asked his dad.

He looked round. "No, but there was a heist at the Philadelphia Museum of Art last week that had their fingerprints all over it."

Linus frowned and his mom looked at Dad, her face lit up in amusement.

Dad shook his head irritably. "Not literally," he explained. "But the job was described as professional, slick and surreal. Sound like anyone we know?"

Mom nodded and vanished back through to the kitchen. Linus could hear her talking but he couldn't make out any words.

Dad was looking at him. "I'm not mad at you, Linus. I'm upset that you might have been caught and I'm disappointed that you didn't think this through."

"But I didn't get caught," he pointed out.

"That's not the point," Dad answered patiently.

"Think it should be," he muttered.

Mom came back into the room, shaking her head. "Saul sounded upset. I think he finally found out about St Louis."

"Oh." Dad sighed.

They exchanged a long and significant look, and Linus knew better than to ask what was going on. He'd just be told that he wasn't old enough yet.

Dad looked at him for a long moment, before he passed a hand over his eyes and sat down heavily on the couch, facing him. "Linus. Do you understand why your mother and I are upset about this?"

He shrugged irritably. "I get it, you're disappointed – "

" – It's not that." Dad sighed again and paused for a long and uncomfortable moment. "We don't want anything to happen to you. And we really don't want to have to hear what you're up to from people like Lester. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," he muttered and looked down at the floor.

"You're everything to us, Linus," his mom explained gently and that made him feel awful. "And I know it feels like you know everything, but you're still so young. If you want to do something like this again – "

" – And you're not to do anything like this again -" Dad interrupted sternly.

Mom ignored him. " - Then we need you to run it by us first. So we can check your thinking. Just for the moment."

Dad nodded. "And Linus? No matter what happens, no matter how stupid you think you've just been, or how old you are, you can always call us when you're in trouble, do you understand? In fact we insist on it."

"Of course," he frowned, puzzled

Dad stared at him intently. "Are you sure you understand? I need to know that you know you can ask for help. Anytime. And we'll always do everything we can, and we'll always find someone who can do the things we can't. You're never alone."

There was a sort of desperation in his voice and Linus found himself biting his lip and trying to be reassuring. "Dad, I know that. Really." He did. It was pretty obvious, after all.

With a feeling of relief he watched his dad relax. Well. As much as his dad ever did relax. "Good. Now, your mother is taking you on a tour of property developers tomorrow. You're going to learn how much land is worth."

Great. "Aw, dad, come on. Tomorrow's Saturday."

"Yes?" His dad raised his eyebrows.

"I was going to check out some dealerships. And I was going out with Matt and Tony in the evening."

"Oh, no." Dad shook his head emphatically. "You're grounded until you learn what things are worth."

"Dad," he whined. "That's not fair."

Mom smiled at him. "Maybe we can run by some car dealerships when we're done," she said in a stage whisper, and Dad frowned a little but didn't object. "Come on," she went on. "You can help me set the table and I'll tell you about real estate."

"Linus," his dad called after him and he paused.

"Yeah?" he asked guardedly.

"Lester said that you roped the guy in like a professional".

He managed to keep the eager smile from spreading across his face. "Really?"

"Yes." There was a pause. "I'm proud of you, son," his dad said offhandedly and Linus knew he was grinning from ear to ear.

"Thanks, Dad."

Your eyes did not deceive you. That was indeed otherhawk writing about someone other than the obvious. "Is this the start of a whole new trend?" absolutely no-one asks. And the answer comes back . . . probably not.