The Game

by Linsey Miller

  Lia turned her phone over and over in her hands. “I wonder how many people withdrew.”

  There was no way to know how many people were still playing, but Lia was convinced there were definitely more than Devon, Lia, and Nelson still in the game.

  If Nelson was willing to get Gem so close to school, maybe her assassin—Aubree, Bryce, Cassidy, Devon, Hunter, Jeremiah, Mercedes, Nicky, Noah, Oliver, Rose, Stephen, Tamora, Zack, or someone else she hadn’t considered—was too.

  “Can you drop me off at the corner?” Lia asked as they turned onto her street. “I want to walk around the block.”

  Gem stared at her. “Alone?”

  “Hardly.” Lia gestured to the handful of people getting home, checking the mail, and walking after work. “I have an hour and a half before sunset, and I’ll be three blocks away. I just want to see how closely my assassin is watching me.”

  Gem stopped the car a driveway over from Lia’s house. From there, Lia could see her father through the kitchen window making coffee. He was already in his after-work clothes—a sweatshirt from Mark’s college and cheap joggers. He used to make coffee for Mark when he left early on weekends to play Assassins. He had listened to Mark’s strategies. It wasn’t the same, of course. Mark was a good student, and playing had been a reward. Even before Abby, her father hadn’t been thrilled about her playing.

  “Is he being weird?” Gem asked, following her line of sight. “I swear, we had two friends die, and if he’s bugging you about your grades, I will—”

  “He’s being okay,” Lia said. “I would rather deal with my assassin over him right now.”

  He wasn’t being anything. It was like he was trying to pretend it wasn’t happening, like Lia was too much of a bother.

  “Do you have a plan?” Gem pulled out and drove past Lia’s house. Three blocks away, at the entrance to their neighborhood, Gem pulled over again. “I could stay.”

  “No, go change clothes,” Lia said. “I’ll just walk slow enough for him to be out of the kitchen and figure out if my assassin is hanging around.”

  “Be careful.” Gem unlocked the car door. “And text me when you get home.”

  Gem lingered at the stoplight for a moment after they drove off. Lia waved to them, her phone in hand just in case. Her water gun was hidden in the front pocket of her coat, and she searched the yards and streets around her. No shadowy figures lurked behind trash cans or cars. Only a few squirrels paid attention to her.

  So Lia walked, one hand holding her phone as if she were busy but her eyes darting left and right with each step. A few neighbors waved. Several dogs barked. No one approached.

  “So much for assassins,” she whispered, texting Gem as she paused at the corner before her house. I’m fine. Don’t worry. No shadowy stalker.

  Lia turned to head home. At the far end of her street, in the dark foliage of a privacy hedge, two spots like binocular lenses glinted. Lia swallowed and carried on walking straight past her street. She pulled her hood up around the back of her neck, but not high enough to block the edges of her sight. If they followed, she would need a new plan.

  At the next corner, she paused and twisted around, pretending to crack her back. No one followed.

  Lia continued down the street, and at the next corner where the street ended, a lone figure stood one block away to her left. A hood covered their face, and the evening light made them nothing more than a silhouette. They must have cut through backyards and smaller streets. The only identifiable thing about them was the way their hood bunched up at the back. Hair in a bun?

  Lia had three choices then: turn around and head back, turn left and face them, or turn right and see how intent they were on following her.

  She turned right and didn’t look back. Cars passed on the street, keeping her safe if this were part of the game.

  If it wasn’t, then there wasn’t much that could keep her safe. At least she was in a populated place. Unlike Ben, she wasn’t alone in the dark. She glanced over her shoulder.

  No one there.

  The next corner was a three-way stop with one road leading to a small neighborhood pool that was closed and one leading back toward Lia’s house. She was a good five-minute walk from home now. A car turned in front of her. A shadow skittered behind it.

  There, the figure knelt near a parked car. In their hand was what had to be a water gun.

  Who was it? Too tall for Aubree or Rose or Zack. Lia’s mind was spinning. And whoever it was, was fast. They must have been running to keep up with Lia through the backyards.

  And it meant they were either herding her toward the pool or egging her on into a head-on confrontation.

  Lia backtracked. She jogged, and by the time she hit the turn she had come from, the figure was there, in the distance, blocking her path. They wanted her near the pool, then.

  Her phone vibrated as she backtracked yet again.

  It was Devon.

  Is Gem home safe and dry?

  Lia texted him back, glancing behind her after each word.

  Yes. I am walking the last few blocks home

  Her phone rang.

  “Hello?” she asked, and tried to keep the soft thrill of his instant response out of her voice.

  “Do you have no sense of self-preservation?” Devon said. Someone spoke over him. Lia couldn’t make out the words. “Yes. Yes. I know. Lia, where are you?”

  “I told you,” she said. “I’m walking home. I wanted to walk for a minute, so Gem dropped me off at the entrance to the neighborhood. It was only three blocks.”

  “Good.” He sighed. “No, wait. What do you mean ‘was’?”

  Lia hesitated at the edge of the small park that was little more than a four-car lot, drained and covered pool, and little grassy area with concrete tables and benches. At the far edge of the park was a short drop-off shadowed by trees and a tall house. A dirt path encircled the whole area with one little fork leading out of the neighborhood. It was a shortcut to the next housing development.

  If Lia took it, she would be near Abby’s house, and if she carried on over the trail, she would be in the park where Abby died.

  “The other day there was someone spying on Gem and me at the park,” Lia whispered into the phone. “Pretty sure it was my assassin. And now, today, I saw them when I was nearly home, so I tried to go a different way. They keep trying to cut me off. I figure they want me someplace quieter.”

  The chain-link fence around the pool creaked in the wind, metal rattling against metal, and Lia looked back.

  Between her and the exit stood the figure. Here, they looked taller than they had on the streets and the other day with Gem. Maybe it was how close they suddenly were. Maybe it was the way their shoulders didn’t slump as they moved.

  No, as they stalked.

  “You went someplace quieter, didn’t you?” Devon’s voice dropped until the static of their connection nearly drowned it out. “Lia, where are you?”

  She picked up her pace and put the pool between her and her assassin. Her phone shook against her ear.

  Her assassin tucked their empty hands into their hoodie pocket, and Lia pulled out her water gun. Goose bumps prickled across her arms.

  “The Pine Valley pool,” she said. “But it’s fine. I have a water gun.”

  “That is not what I’m worried about.” A door on Devon’s end slammed, and Lia jumped. “It’s a game, Lia. Just let them shoot you. This stress isn’t worth whatever it is you want.”

  But it was. Recognition, acceptance, understanding—it would all be hers if she won the game.

  And she could win it. Because she understood it.

  Winning it was something she could achieve. There was nothing else in Lincoln for her.

  Footsteps crunched over gravel. Her assassin darted around the corner of the pool. Lia ripped her arm up and
fired once. Water splattered against her assassin’s neck, soaking the front of their hoodie, and they doubled over. Lia sprinted down the path and toward the trees. She skidded to a stop at the edge of the park, far out of range for her assassin to shoot.

  “I got them,” she said to Devon before shouting, “You’re out, whoever you are. Good show. Who do I tell the Council I got?”

  Her assassin didn’t answer. They raised their head and followed. Lia stepped back.

  A ding rang in her ears and Devon asked, “Why would you do that?”

  “Why would I do what?” Lia huffed. Her assassin was too lithe to be Cassidy and far faster than Stephen. They leapt over one of the benches and headed straight toward her. “I’m too busy to be doing anything.”

  Her assassin started sprinting toward her. Lia’s hand tightened around her water gun.

  “Hang on,” Devon said. A car started. “Where are you now?”

  Lia raised her arm again, panic trembling through her, and aimed for her assassin’s face. It was rude, but they hadn’t stopped. Why hadn’t they stopped?

  “You’re out!” She fired once and missed. “Just tell me who you are so I can send the email.”

  Still, they said nothing.

  “Where are you now?” Devon’s voice shook.

  Lia fired again, and her assassin shrieked and rubbed their eyes. “You know that path through Pine Valley that connects to the big walking park in Pleasant Pines? I’ll be there.”

  His response was lost in the rattle of her phone as she ran.

  “They didn’t stop.” Lia took off down the path, out of her neighborhood. Her phone smacked her ear with every stride. “They were out, but they didn’t stop.”

  There was no reason for them to do that.

  “Didn’t stop what?” Devon asked, voice reverberating with the dead giveaway of speakerphone.

  “I shot them,” Lia said with a gasp. Her calves burned. She could hear nothing but her heart and Devon’s voice over the sounds of her feet slapping against the dirt. “They kept coming after me instead of exchanging info with me for the Council.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Devon asked. He was cursing now.

  Lia had never heard him curse, and the laughter stuttered out of her. She was, except for whoever was after her, utterly alone.

  And this was not part of the game.

  Lia burst out of the path and into Pleasant Pine Park as tires squealed in the parking lot. The path behind her was dark and lonely, overhanging branches keeping her from seeing too far. The black SUV in the lot turned off, and Devon jumped out. She glanced back. No one had followed her.

  That she could see.

  “What were you doing?” he shouted. “I really don’t care if you play, but I am not going to be part of some weird mind game.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, gasping. The stitch in her side ached, and the wind chilled the sweat coating her skin. Her backpack straps cut into her arms. “I’m the one being mind-gamed.”

  “Come on.” He hooked one arm around her waist and helped her to the car, his fingers tight against her ribs. “Please tell me you didn’t really run the whole way.”

  Lia shook her head. “Then I shall tell you nothing.”

  He practically lifted her into the passenger seat of his mom’s car and buckled the seat belt for her before she could protest.

  Devon locked the car as soon as he was in it. “This is getting dangerous, Lia,” he said, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. She’d never seen him in one, and he looked smaller with the fleece hood pulled up around the back of his neck like a scarf. “And I’m tired of your weird messages and calls and the game.”

  “What messages?” Lia asked, confused. “We were texting, and you’re the one who got weird and called me.”

  “You’re walking alone where—” He rolled his eyes. “You emailed me.”

  “I did not,” Lia said. “Why would I email you? We were already talking.”

  He stared at her, eyes sweeping from her muddy shoes to the tangle of her hair. “You emailed me a picture.”

  “No,” she said slowly, as if she were talking to a small child. “I was busy, and even if I wanted to send you a message, I’d text it. I’m not an animal.”

  “We need to talk,” he said. “Is it okay if we go to my house? My dad’s there, so he can call your mom, but we can talk in my room.”

  Lia nodded. “Sure. Okay. I’ll just tell my mom we needed to talk.” She closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat, her breathing evening out.

  “Why did you run to the park?” Devon asked, eyes on the road and hands too tight on the wheel.

  Lia rubbed her cheeks. The cold had started to fade, but still they stung. “There wasn’t really anywhere else to go. The person following kept lapping me when I was walking down the street, so they were definitely faster than me. I would’ve had to run in a half circle to get out of the park, and they would’ve caught up with me in three steps. So I just ran.”

  “To Pleasant Pines?” he asked.

  “To the only place at the other end of the path.” She shuddered. “They should have stopped. I shot them. By the rules, they’re out, and we needed to swap information. But they just kept following me. I don’t know. You were listening.”

  “Yeah, but what if they were just approaching you to talk?” He glanced at her as he turned onto his street and winced. “And then you ran?”

  “They said nothing, stalked toward me, and never took their hood off,” she said. “If they were going to talk to me, there were less creepy ways to do it.”

  “True.” He parked his mom’s car in the driveway and touched Lia’s chin. His thumb ran down her cheek. “You’re bleeding.”

  “What?” She touched her cheek. A few specks of blood dotted her fingers. “It must have been a branch while I was running. The closest I got to the person was ten feet.”

  He sighed, shoulders slumping. “And you hit them at ten feet?”

  “Oh no,” Lia said, and grinned. “They were much farther away when I shot them. It was very impressive.”

  “Of course it was.” His hand tapped against her jaw, and then very quickly he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Come on.”

  Lia had never been inside Devon’s house. She grabbed his hand as they went inside, her cold fingers lacing through his warm ones. He didn’t shake her off, but his shoulders tensed. The house was warm and crowded; an old hutch next to the door was organized with baskets for keys and mail. He let her pass so that he could lock the door behind her. The short entry hall opened up into a big living area on the left and a wide, bright dining room on the right. Devon nudged her toward the dining room. The table was littered with half-finished puzzles and a game of Scrabble. There was no room to eat at it.

  “Who’s winning?” Lia asked.

  Devon laughed. “My dad. My dad always wins.”

  “No bonus points for sucking up,” called his dad through the wide doorway connecting the dining room and kitchen. “Hello, Lia.”

  Devon pulled his hand away from Lia.

  “Hi, Mr. Diaz,” Lia said, waving slightly. “Do you need any help?”

  “No, but thank you,” he said with a smile. He was a tall man with white streaks in the black hair near his ears, and he had the same warm brown eyes as Devon. The cutting board before him was full of chopped chorizo, peppers, and apples, and he set the knife aside before wiping his hands on a rag. His bushy eyebrows furrowed. “Are you all right?”

  Lia touched her cheek. “Yes, thanks. A tree branch disagreed with me walking near it.”

  “We’re going to talk for a little bit,” Devon said. He turned and glanced at Lia. “Do you want anything to drink?”

  “No, I’m good.” Lia looked around, the butter-yellow walls decorated with
recipes and pictures, and she smiled at the sideways writing on the opposite door where they had tracked Devon’s and his older sister Adriana’s heights. “Thank you.”

  His dad cleared his throat. “Feel free to sit in the living room.”

  “I figured we could go up to my room since—”

  “You can sit in the living room,” Devon’s dad said. He swept one arm toward the door. “Or you can stand in here and help with dinner.”

  Lia chuckled. Devon ducked his head, probably rolling his eyes. The pair sat side by side on an old green couch covered with two throw blankets, and Devon sat with his hands in his lap. Lia caught his dad peeking at them from around the corner.

  “So,” she said, “you think I emailed you?”

  He brought his legs up onto the couch and turned to her. “You did email me. Pretending like you don’t know about it isn’t funny.”

  “I don’t know a lot of things, and it isn’t pretending.” All the joy Lia felt at sitting in his house and seeing him so relaxed, so unlike he ever was around other people, faded. “That’s not possible.”

  Her journal and now this—her memory might have been spotty from grief, but she hadn’t emailed Devon.

  “Who even emails?” she asked when Devon only stared at her. “I haven’t emailed you. I’m not a teacher.”

  “Tons of terrible stuff has happened, and you’re basically staring more terrifying stuff in the face,” he said, pulling out his phone and scrolling through an impossibly long thread of emails. “And then you sent me this.”

  “I definitely didn’t send you anything.” But she took his phone anyway and opened the file. There was no subject or body to the email. Only the picture. “And I don’t see why it would—”

  It was a picture of a figure, back to the camera, in the park. It was a far better look at them than Lia had gotten in person—they weren’t as tall as Lia had thought, their hair was bunched up under their hood, and the water gun in their hand was a delicate shade of blush pink. Behind them was one of the cement lunch tables.

  “They were following me,” Lia said. “But this isn’t who I shot. I was never behind them.”