Lia tugged her sleeves down over her hands. “If someone killed Abby, why didn’t they kill me?”

Gem and Devon glanced at each other.

“There’s no use in obsessing over it.” Devon slipped his hand between the door and Lia’s seat. His fingers gently curled around her arm. “Same rules as playing Assassins. Don’t go anywhere alone and stay on guard.”

“My assassin made themselves known yesterday.” Lia let her head hit the back of her seat. “I hope that was my assassin.”

“It was,” Gem said, “and they were just angry you caught them trying to be edgy.”

Lia laughed, the sound an odd bubbling thing that she didn’t recognize, and followed Gem and Devon into school. The rest of the day went like that laugh—odd and fleeting. The teachers taught like normal, ignoring the empty seats and reading the announcement about grief counselors as if it were any other announcement. So quickly had the school buckled down and gotten over its grief.

She escaped to the little outdoor path from the school to the library for fresh air between her first two classes. Eyes closed, Lia tilted her head up, inhaled, and choked. The sweet, sour scent of death rolled down the back of her throat. Lia shook her head and rubbed her eyes. A robin lay rotting in the bushes near her and Gem’s usual lunch table. She darted across the path.

A body smacked into her.

“Hey!” A hand closed around Lia’s arm. “Oh.”

It was Faith, and she dropped Lia’s arm. Lia stumbled back. Her backpack fell off her shoulder.

“Crap.” Faith held up her hands in surrender. “Sorry. I was just trying to slip past you. You looked pretty out of it.”

Lia’s stomach was in her throat. “Sorry. Yeah. I just needed fresh air.”

“Good luck,” Faith said with a laugh, and nodded to the bird. “Here. Let me help.”

Faith set down the stack of books she had been carrying. She bent over Lia’s backpack and picked it up, shoving a few of Lia’s books and pens back into the half-closed front pocket. She zipped it up and handed it to Lia. Her arm didn’t even shake.

Carrying textbooks was practically weight training now.

“Thanks,” Lia said. “You didn’t have to. It was my fault.”

Faith’s head cocked to the side, her hair tumbling over her shoulder. She smiled. “I feel guilty, and Mrs. White always lectures us about how important volunteering is. Consider this altruism.”

“Luckily we’re done with all that,” Lia said, turning around and relenting.

“Hardly. I haven’t heard back yet,” said Faith. “But I have a four point two, so it should be fine.”

Lia didn’t really know how to respond to that without starting a conversation, so she only nodded.