Omelet yowled. The gun slipped from Lia’s hand. Gem inhaled sharply, their hand brushing Lia’s arm. Lia sprinted for Abby, the others crashing behind her, and wove between the old posts leading to the bridge. She ducked under the bridge and nearly tripped over Abby’s sprawled legs.

“Abby!” Lia crouched down next to her. She lay faceup in the mud. “Are you okay?”

Abby turned her head to stare at Lia and then glanced down at the old fence post right next to her side. “I think so?”

“Abby!” Devon stumbled to a stop, Gem and Ben at his heels. “Is she okay?”

“Can you sit up? Wait, can you move your legs? Did you hit your head?” Lia gently touched her shoulder. The post had torn through her coat and shirt, leaving a trail of splinters from Abby’s elbow to her wrist. Lia winced. “Your arm—”

“Yeah,” Abby said, gaze stuck on it. “That could have been really bad.”

“But for real.” Devon knelt on Abby’s other side and checked the rest of her for cuts. “Does anything else hurt?”

“My pride?” Abby frowned and wiggled her feet. “I think I’m fine. Did you shoot Omelet?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Lia said. “And this.”

Abby shifted, and Lia helped her sit up. Ben dug through his pockets and handed Devon three bandages, some tweezers, and hand sanitizer.

“Thanks,” Devon said, “but doing this ourselves is probably a bad idea.”

Lia swallowed. “How mad are your parents going to be?”

“It’s not that bad, so a little mad maybe.” Abby turned her arm over, and above them on the bridge Omelet whined. “I’m okay, buddy. Sit.”

Omelet sat, and Ben scrambled up the slight embankment to grab him.

“Well,” Abby said, “this is an exciting start to Assassins.”

“Do you think they’ll cancel it?” Lia asked.

Devon eyed her with a look that said Seriously? “Priorities, Lia. Priorities.”

“Sorry.” She sighed. “I’m just saying that would suck.”

And it would all have been for nothing. She would have nothing left. Nothing after what happened last year.

“Sorry,” Lia repeated. She stood and picked up the bridge railing that had given way. The push had yanked a handful of nails free, but it hadn’t broken when it fell. The nails glittered in the grass around Abby. Lia moved one away from where she was sitting. The wood looked worn down around the holes. The nails must have been loose. “But it’s not like the game is why she fell.”

“It sort of is, though,” Devon said. He helped Abby move her torn sleeves out of the way. “It’s not that deep.”

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Abby said slowly. “I definitely need it cleaned, but I don’t want to be the girl who got Assassins cancelled.”

Lia sighed. “I am really, really sorry you fell.”

It wasn’t that Lia wasn’t sorry—she was—but the idea of the game being canceled over something even moderately her fault broke her skin out in goose bumps.