The school hadn’t made playing Assassins against the rules yet.
Some of the more vocal parents were pushing for it, though. Lia’s parents had insisted she not play the game anymore. If she hadn’t been playing, she wouldn’t have suffered. If she hadn’t been playing, maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe Abby would never have fallen, hurt her arm, and taken that path. Maybe she wouldn’t have died.
But not playing wasn’t an option.
Lia took a deep breath, held it, and tried to keep her voice steady. “I heard that you’re thinking about punishing seniors who continue playing Assassins?”
“Yes, well.” Mrs. White cleared her throat. “In light of Abby’s accident, we are afraid that the unregulated nature of the game and how it encourages and rewards risky behavior will put more students in danger.”
“She wanted to play,” Gem protested. “And she definitely wouldn’t have wanted to go down in history as the girl who got Assassins banned. She would hate that.”
Mrs. White’s mouth twitched. “I understand that it’s a tradition; however, given the nature of what’s happened, it feels distasteful to continue.”
“It’s only distasteful if we make it distasteful,” Lia said before Mrs. White could continue. “We’re not just saying this because we want to play. The game has never been banned, and in five years when no one who knew her is here, she’ll be a joke. But if we keep playing, we can make it matter. Every time someone takes out their target, we can make a donation to the no-kill animal shelter Abby volunteered at.”
Lia had asked Devon and Ben about it, and Devon had originally called her idea a “swear jar for kills” but agreed that it worked.
“That may be, but this tragedy shines a light on—”
“It was dark.” Lia stared at a spot on the wall just over the principal’s shoulder. “So if there’s anything that needs a light, it’s that park. I tripped, too. I was just lucky.”
The room was silent for a moment; then Mrs. White rose and gestured for Lia and Gem to do the same.
“I appreciate you both stopping by, and I’ll keep your idea in mind,” Mrs. White told them, opening her door. “As of now, we haven’t made any decisions. I am afraid you two need to get to class, though.”
She shut the door and Gem shrugged. “Parents are scared. Mine are. Neither of them grew up in a town like Lincoln, and now all the Lincoln parents are realizing how little attention they’ve paid to what their kids are up to.”
“That’s not our fault,” Lia said.
“Yeah,” Gem said. “Good luck explaining that to them.”
They got to class a few minutes before the tardy bell. The biology room was completely silent, and even Sam, who usually listened to music without headphones, was staring solemnly at Abby’s empty chair. There was a whole block of empty desks where Abby usually sat, and Lia swallowed. At least they weren’t in the lab. There were three desks between Abby and Lia. Devon had even sat in the normally unoccupied desk near Lia. His tall frame would block her view of Abby’s desk.
They were supposed to be finishing up the chapters on anatomy. Ms. Christie played Planet Earth instead. Even Faith, who usually complained about anything that didn’t go according to plan, was calmly sitting in a chair at the back of the room so that she could get a better view of the screen. She raised one hand to Lia in greeting.
“Hey,” Devon said. He leaned across the aisle to slip a note card beneath her arms. “That’s what the daily quiz was on for Euro History.”
“Thank you,” Lia whispered. Her throat still hurt from crying, but maybe he would think she was just being quiet for the movie. She slid her journal into the metal basket beneath her chair.
She tore out a page from her notebook and wrote, Did you get the email from the Council?
She angled it so Devon could see, and he nodded, pulling out his own sheet of paper. Did the swear jar work?
I don’t know, wrote Lia. In-school suspension seems pretty tame now. What is there left to lose?
Death had never seemed real, but now it was random and unavoidable even if you did everything adults said you should. Why bother with rules?
A bunch of people withdrew. Devon tapped his pen against the paper, dark ink splotches seeping across the white.
Abby’s sweatshirt. Omelet’s fur.
Four years she had waited for this. It wasn’t fair.
I’m going to keep playing no matter what, she wrote. But I understand if you can’t.
She glanced at him, expecting a frown or a sigh, some sort of sign that upright Devon Diaz didn’t approve, but he only crumpled up his note and tucked it into his backpack.
“I thought you might say that,” he whispered. “Do you have a plan?”
“No,” Lia said, sneaking a glance at her phone. She sent a quick email to the Council. “But I will soon.”
“The game is on,” Gem said. It was after school and Lia and Gem were on a bench next to the parking lot. They looked at the texted screenshot on Gem’s phone. “The school will punish anyone found playing the game who breaks school rules, but we don’t play on school grounds anyway.”
Someone had sent Gem a screenshot from the PTA Facebook group, and they hadn’t bothered to cut out the names of the parents with the most to say. Lia’s mom was not happy by the looks of it.
“Y’all see it?” Ben came over to the bench and held up his phone. “Look.”
Hello, assassins.
Today we honor a fallen comrade, Abby Ascher. She was brilliant. She was bold. She will be missed. She will not be the reason the game is canceled. The game will never be canceled. The game will only end when all assassins but one are dead. The school has taken an interest in our goings-on of late, and while we will take no part in the donations to the animal shelter, we will not punish those who opt to. Perhaps the promise of kindness will draw out your ambition.
That said, players and teams who have withdrawn because they feared retribution from the school will not be reinstated. Cowardice will not be rewarded.
Happy hunting,
The Council
“Happy hunting,” Gem said. “Definitely not Gabo. He liked Abby.”
“There are fewer people playing,” Lia said. “Leo must still be, or we would have gotten a new target.”
“He is. He loves a good competition.” Ben crawled over the bench and squeezed himself between Gem and Lia. “How you doing?”
Ben was the first person who didn’t ask it while looking at her like she was dying.
“Better,” Lia said. “I need something to do. The game’s been all I’ve been looking forward to since ninth grade. I’m ready to go.”
The reminders she had—skinned knees and a thick bruise across her ankle—were already fading.
“I love a good competition, too.” Ben stretched his arms up and twisted till his spine cracked.
Lia winced.
“Diaz!” Ben waved behind them. “We’re still in. Are you?”
“He said he’d play if we wouldn’t get in-school suspension,” Lia said. “So he’s in.”
Devon held up his phone as he approached. “Yeah, I got your message.”
Lia turned back around, about to ask what message, and Devon winked at her. She shut her mouth. He’d never done that before.
“So what’s the plan?” Ben asked.
“Lia?” Devon leaned his arms against the bench back, shoulder bumping Lia’s head. “You’re the stalker.”
“That makes me sound creepy.” Lia reached into her backpack for her journal. Her fingers scraped across cheap paper and cardboard covers, but the journal was nowhere to be found. “Shoot. I left my journal in Ms. Christie’s class.”
“Want to go back to get it?” Gem asked. “I don’t remember seeing it when we left, but Faith was behind us. I’ll text
her.”
Gem typed something, and a few seconds later nodded.
“Faith says she saw it when she left but forgot it was yours. Ms. Christie probably has it now.”
“It’s fine,” Lia said. It wasn’t fine. She had spent months working on it, and Leo’s data was in there. “I have most of it online, and my name and email are in the journal. Ms. Christie won’t toss it. Let’s just focus on Leo.”
“Leo Liu,” Devon said, peering over Lia’s shoulder and reading from her phone. “Soccer star, best history student, vegetarian.”
“He makes great lentil burgers,” Ben said, leaning forward. “He has practice tonight if we want to get him. Afterward he’ll be with the other players. They carpool.”
“I have a family dinner tonight,” Devon said. “Are you good if I catch back up with you tomorrow?”
Her skin prickled at the brush of his breath past her ear. “Sure. Just make sure you don’t go anywhere alone.”
From the corner of her eye, Lia saw Gem wink at her.
“Yeah, yeah.” He smiled. “If I need anyone to accompany me anywhere, I’ll message you.”
“I can’t do tonight either,” Gem said, “but I can drop everyone off to make sure none of us get taken out.”
Lia couldn’t stomach referring to the targets as “killed,” and was glad they’d used “taken out.” “Ben and I can see if we can get Leo tonight, and then we can regroup tomorrow if not?”
“Yes.” Ben clapped Gem on the back and pulled his hood over his red hair. “Think you’ll survive if you drive home alone?”
Gem hummed and stood. “Yeah, unless they break into my garage.”
Technically illegal, so they were probably safe.
Gem drove Devon home first. They pulled onto his street as his mother was getting home, Dr. Diaz lingering at the door. Lia hadn’t seen her at the funeral, but she couldn’t remember much of that day anyway. She waved to them.
“She’s anxious because of Abby,” Gem said softly. “My parents are, too. I can’t believe yours aren’t, Lia.”
They were. They were worried about her taking too much time off school even while telling her she needed to focus on her health. They wanted her to recover and take as much time off as she needed. They wanted her to keep her grades up. They wanted a daughter they could be proud of.
They wanted so much for her, all of it without asking what she wanted.
They had never even let her take off school if she was sick in the past. She couldn’t believe it would really be okay if she needed more time off now.
“Ben,” Lia said, turning to look at him, “are your parents okay with you being out late?”
He nodded. “As long as I text them where I am and am home by ten.”
“I promise to get you home for dinner.” Lia smiled. “Gem, drop us off at the soccer fields.”
“No.” Ben pulled up his phone, squinted, and shook his head. “Drop us at that 7-Eleven near them. It’s uphill. We can watch from there.”
They grabbed snacks from the store after Gem dropped them off. Ben piled all of it into his backpack and led Lia to a small, tree-filled alley overlooking the soccer fields. There were several well-worn dirt paths cutting through.
“How’d you know this was up here?” Lia asked, settling down with her back to a tree.
He sat next to her and pointed to a clearer area barely large enough to hide a car. “My ex and I used to come here.”
“Cool,” Lia said quickly. “What do you know about Leo?”
“Enough.” Ben laughed. “He’s dating Ryan, and they’re on a team together. I’m guessing Shane and Carlos are the other two on the team. They’re all faster than you, so don’t chase them. Ryan and Carlos are definitely faster than you and probably faster than me. We’ll have to catch Leo when he thinks he’s safe. Maybe at the gym? He’s more an endurance guy, usually at the back during their post-workout lap. I bet we could separate him from the pack.”
“Yeah, maybe. They run around the gym, right? I don’t know what to do with that,” Lia said. Two weeks ago, she would’ve lured him off the path or rolled something before him to make him stop, but now she couldn’t stomach the idea. “Why don’t you play soccer? You did when we were kids, and then you swapped to football.”
Ben offered her some pretzels. “I don’t know. May’s better at soccer. Didn’t want to make our dads pick which game to go to, and now our games are different nights.”
“I think my mom would be happier if I played a sport,” Lia said, taking a pretzel and breaking it at the joints. “If I’m not good at school, I might as well be good at a sport.”
“Didn’t your brother play basketball?” Ben asked.
Lia nodded. “Since he was five. I don’t like it, though.”
“Yeah, but you did debate and stuff,” he said. “Don’t those count?”
“Only if I want to go to law school, apparently. Since I don’t, my parents don’t think debate’s very useful,” Lia said. “They figured it was a distraction, so I quit to focus on grades.”
That hadn’t worked, and now she had the same grades and no debate club. She pulled the binoculars up to her eyes and watched Leo take a water break with some other players. What was the point of her parents paying and helping with loans if she didn’t have a plan? According to them, there wasn’t one. She had plans for Assassins and escape rooms, but not a single one for life after graduation.
It infuriated her parents.
Footsteps pattered across the ground behind them, and Lia glanced over her shoulder. Leaves fluttered to the ground. Nothing was there.
Ben patted her shoulder. “Probably Slushie, but I get it. I’ve been hearing stuff, too. Or at least imagining it. Last night I nearly punched a tree. Thought it was attacking me in the backyard. I could’ve sworn there was a person behind it, but nope. Nothing but trees.”
“Slushie?” she repeated, confused.
“Slushie,” he confirmed, and took the binoculars from her. “The 7-Eleven’s cat.”
He said it with such certainty that Lia could only nod. They watched the practice carry on in silence, and when the sun got low and the players ran one last sprint and called it a night, Lia took note of which car Leo got into and entered it on her phone. Ben said it was Ryan’s.
“So he’s almost certainly on a team with Ryan, Carlos, and Shane,” Lia said, lowering the binoculars. All three of them were driving home together. “Where do you think he’s going now?” Lia asked.
“Babysitting,” Ben said. He tipped the pretzel bag up and emptied the crumbs into his mouth. “He’s CPR certified and everything.”
“We can’t get him tonight,” Lia said, biting into a chocolate bar. “But we can get him tomorrow.”
The next morning, Lia rose with the sun and Abby didn’t. The fact haunted her, a ghost at her heels as she packed her bag for a Saturday of assassinating Leo. She had spent all night figuring out how to get Leo, and the thrill of the game, of doing something right, lifted the weight in the pit of her stomach. She waited in the dark of her living room for Gem, the sounds of her father’s snoring thundering in her ears. Maybe if she won, she would feel better about having been the one who lived.
“Survivor’s guilt,” Gem said as Lia got into the backseat next to Devon and told them how she was feeling. “We talked about it in psych once.”
“Cool,” Lia said, because putting a name to it didn’t really help. “So, about Leo—the team has to cross the street when they do their lap around the grounds. That means they have to wait for the light, and they usually go in two or three groups. Leo’s usually last, and when everyone crosses the street, there’s a stretch of sidewalk that’s usually blocked by traffic. He’ll feel safe. He won’t speed up because usually he wouldn’t be alone. We hit the crosswalk buttons on either end of the street and delay traffic, a
nd one of us takes him out while he’s crossing that stretch. He won’t be in the line of sight of the others if they all stick to their usual running patterns, and given how exhausting practice is, they probably will.”
“On top of things as always,” Devon said.
“Gem and Ben will hit the crosswalk buttons. Because of traffic, they won’t count as alone, so we have to stop traffic,” Lia said. “Devon or I will take the shot from across the drainage ditch.”
“Going to challenge me to a duel to determine who the best shot is?” Devon asked.
Lia grinned. “I’m the best shot. I was just going to let you take it if you wanted.”
The best gym in Lincoln was across from a closed YMCA. Gem let Devon and Lia off in the YMCA’s parking lot, all three making sure no cars had followed them and no one was watching from the windows of the gym. Devon helped Lia out of the car and flipped up his hood. If they got caught, it would be best if Leo didn’t know it was them. She pulled her wool hat lower.
“Here,” she said, and pointed to the gate at the edge of the overgrown YMCA lot. There was no fence attached to it, and the little valley behind it was meant for water runoff, but it had been far too dry for that. “It’s not trespassing; I checked. We can keep watch from atop the other side. The moment Leo’s alone, we’ve got him.”
“How many times did you spy on the team to figure this out?” Devon asked, his face drenched in light from the rising sun.
“Only a few times,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “It meant I knew enough about the whole team to call it there.”
He shook his head, and Lia trudged out of the creek and up into the little forested area separating the neighborhood from the old lot. His chuckling followed her.
“What?” she asked. “Not all of us have everything figured out. I need something to be good at, and games are it. Competitions. You’ve got orchestra, and I’ve got this.”
The Game Page 5
