Lia hadn’t bothered documenting Faith; the girl hated games as much as she hated mess. Faith sat at the first bench in the biology lab and pulled out a bullet journal bursting with stickers and notes. Hannah, who sat behind her, pulled out some new calligraphy pen to show her. Lia dropped her journal and half-chewed pen onto a bench next to Gem.

“She’s so organized,” Lia said. “I bet her closet is gorgeous.”

“Don’t worry.” Gem pulled out their work and grinned. “Once we win the game, nothing will be able to hold us back. We’ll be unrivaled.”

Lia laughed. “I don’t think they give scholarships out for fake-murdering classmates.”

In class, Lia had always been very, very rivaled.

With AP exams looming and their fates soon to arrive in admission portals, everyone took to the lab with as much liveliness as the day-old sheep eyeballs they were dissecting. At the next table, Devon Diaz, Lia’s oblivious crush since seventh grade, was the only one really following the steps of the lab and not just cutting the eye into tiny pieces. His fingers curled around the handle of his scalpel as if it were his violin bow, steady and sure of every move. He blew his black hair, a touch too long and curling at the ends, out of his eyes and rolled his shoulders back. Devon was sharper than any note he ever played, always wearing button-down shirts and dark jeans. He was put together and knew exactly what he wanted—all A’s, pre-med, and no distractions. Like dating.

Specifically, like dating Lia.

Near the end of class, Gem leaned over and whispered, “If Devon’s our target, will you be able to kill him?”

“Of course I could kill him,” Lia said, already calculating how hard she would have to pull the trigger to let loose the least amount of water. “But he’s not playing.”

“Did you ask him?” Gem asked. “You never talk to him.”

“Yes.”

This was a lie. Lia hadn’t asked him. She’d just watched him for months. They moved in similar but distant circles, and he liked talking about music and how math touched everything. Lia could listen to him talk for hours, and sometimes did when she happened upon him talking to someone else and she could listen from the other side of a corner or bookshelf. He had no interest in what she could talk about—escape rooms, games, and sometimes art—but he was always kind enough to listen to her anyway. He would nod and smile, nudging her to keep talking. He was too nice.

And he always laughed at her jokes no matter how goofy they were.

“I never thought you’d have the nerve,” Gem whispered.

Lia held up the small Nerf pistol—accuracy over deluge—she had started carrying in her bag Monday to get used to the weight. She didn’t want any surprises come Friday. She sprayed Gem once, only lightly on the shoe, and a few drops of water splattered across the floor. Abby looked up from the book in her lap across the aisle.