8. When you kill your target, email [email protected] that you have completed your contract. The Council will provide you with a new target by the next midnight.

9. If you are killed and would like to dispute it, email [email protected] with your evidence of a disqualifying kill. The council will decide within a reasonable amount of time.

10.If there are only three assassins remaining, we will inform them of their accomplishment.

11. And the most important rule of all—have fun!

12. We’re kidding. Murder is a necessity. Fun is optional.

Your team members are Ben Barnard, Gem Hastings, and Devon Diaz. If you don’t already have them, phone numbers and addresses are in the student directory.

Your first target is Abby Ascher.

The game begins in five hours. Remember: you’re someone’s target too.

Good luck,

The Council

PS: OBVIOUSLY NONE OF THIS IS LITERAL. DON’T KILL ANYONE. NO DANGEROUS TRAPS. PUTTING ANOTHER ASSASSIN IN DANGER WILL DISQUALIFY YOU. IF YOU HURT ANYONE OR DAMAGE ANY PROPERTY, YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN.

“Well,” Lia said, laying her face on the plastic lattice table smothered in decades of student germs. “Devon’s going to be sad he can’t kill me.”

“No. Romantic. Distractions.” Gem pulled her up. “Gabo definitely didn’t write that last part. He hates caps.”

So the Council was still a mystery, then, but at least one concerned about legality.

Lia threaded her fingers through the table lattice. “Ben’s good, though, and he always goes all in.”

“I can’t believe your terrible flirting convinced Devon to play,” Gem said. “He’s walking over here, by the way.”

Devon usually ate with a handful of orchestra kids. He walked through the crowd toward their table. “Why do I feel like you set this up?” he said, dropping his bag onto the bench next to Lia and crossing his arms.

“Are any of the other orchestra kids playing?” Lia asked. “They group friends and classmates together.”

“Yeah,” Gem said, “we can’t have you and the second violin bitter about Assassins for the rest of the year after she kills you.”

He shook his head. “Most of them aren’t. We have rehearsal every night for the spring concert. It’s too easy to take us out.”

“Well, now you have us and Ben to protect you.” Lia smiled. “Did you read the rules?”

“Yes, but I’m assuming you have it all planned out. You love things like this,” Devon said.

Lia did love things like this—tabletop games, escape rooms…anything that relied on strategy and not luck—but how did he know that?

“Do I talk about it too much?” Lia asked. She talked about it sometimes. Maybe that was how he knew.

“No, you smile when you talk about things you like.” Devon read over the email again, his nose crinkling. “What happened three years ago?”

“Someone modded a paintball gun to shoot water balls that would pop on impact.” Lia held up her bio notebook and pointed to her labeled sketch of an eye. “Mark said the shooter hit a kid in the eye and got disqualified.”