I have to be honest with Fender.

But how do I do that?

Maybe I should just start by writing his name here:

Claus.

Linnea

“Who’s Claus?” asks Kate quietly.

The name buzzes through every cell in my body.

The boy who called me a candy-machine whisperer. The boy who listened to me and gave me advice about Fender. Less than an hour ago, I was in his room.

He is Room Service.

“He’s about our age, with black hair and glasses.”

All eyes are on me now.

“What?” Kate stammers. “How do you know that?”

“Because I know someone called Claus.” I feel myself becoming dizzy again, like I could faint at any minute. “And he’s here. At the Riverside.”

“You have to tell us everything.” Kate sits me down on one of the easy chairs and crouches down in front of me. Fender is in the other chair. Lucas is standing by the window.

“So how do you know him?”

“I only met him this afternoon. He’s staying here. You guys know him too.”

“What?” Kate frowns. “I don’t know anyone called Claus.”

“Yes, you do. You guys met him once at a drinks party at Kate’s dad’s firm. That’s where he knew Isolde from too.”

Kate shakes her head. “Wait a moment. I don’t get it. How did this Claus end up at my dad’s drinks party?”

“His parents work for him.”

Kate looks at me. “There aren’t any couples working for Dad. It’s all young men and women, without children. My dad’s the only one with a family.”

So Claus was lying.

Then who was that couple in the hallway?

I thought Claus looked like the woman, but how well could I see her from that distance? Of course I believed they were his parents. Why would he lie about something like that?

“Who is Claus?” Kate asks Fender again.

“Someone she used to know. She said he didn’t matter.”

Fender’s face is white as a sheet. It’s bad enough that Claus lied to me, but Fender is just finding out that his girlfriend was leading a double life. So clearly that Claus guy did matter. The way Isolde writes about him is pretty intense.

Absentmindedly, Kate slips the gold envelope through her hands. She doesn’t say anything. No one says anything. But then suddenly she looks up in surprise.

“Guys, there’s something else in here.”

Kate takes a last sheet of paper out of the envelope. It’s a lot smaller, with just a few sentences on it. As her eyes run over the words, all the color leaves her face.

“What is it?” I ask.

Kate looks at me. “It’s the rules of the game,” she says.

RULES OF THE GAME

IF YOU WANT ANSWERS