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.