“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That said, players and teams who have withdrawn because they feared retribution from the school will not be reinstated.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.”