Lia took off after them. She jumped the last three stairs of the landing and skidded into the wall. A figure, all in black, darted down the last landing. Lia leapt after them.

If Devon had fallen, it would’ve looked like Lia had pushed him.

The attacker smacked into the door. It flew open, and they sprinted out. Lia raced after, following their path in the dim light of the streetlamps. They turned left, back toward the school, and took the path leading into the neighborhood around the school. Lia had mapped the area outside of the school grounds extensively for the game, and she took a path that would intercept theirs. She ran without thinking, eyes on the corner ahead. One right, and she would have them. Distantly, Devon screamed her name. She took the corner at full speed.

The figure stood in front of her, water gun raised. It was the same person from the park. Their face was covered by the folds of a thin black scarf, and they were taller than Lia by half a foot. Their white tennis shoes were immaculate despite the mud.

“Why?” Lia asked.

She could fight them. Water was nothing compared to what they had done.

They cocked their head to the side and shot her point-blank in the face.

Lia collapsed, gasping. Water burned in her eyes, dripping down her nose and into her open mouth. She tried to stand and gagged. It wasn’t just water. She couldn’t see.

Footsteps paced around her. Lia scrambled back, eyes shut and gravel ripping into her hands. A shout echoed down the alley. Devon screamed. Lia’s vision cleared just enough for her to see the dark smear of her attacker flee.

By the time she had heaved up the water she had inhaled and Devon had tried to wipe the water mixture from her eyes, the attacker was gone.

“It wasn’t part of the game!” Lia wrung the towel the cops had pulled from their trunk in her hands. The water had been laced with soap and some sort of pepper oil, and Devon had gotten another orchestra member to get some milk from the vending machine. Lia’s face was still red and stinging. “They tried to kill Devon.”

“He’s fine,” said a cop Lia hadn’t met before and regretted meeting now. He had the countenance and facial hair of a thirteen-year-old shih tzu, and Lia liked him as much as she liked yappy dogs. He hadn’t even asked what her name was. “That fall wouldn’t have killed him, probably wouldn’t have even broken a bone, and seems like it successfully lured you off of school property.”

Behind his head, where Devon sat talking to his mom, Lia met Devon’s eyes. He shook his head. He was wrapped in a blanket. He had taken off Lia’s soaked jacket and replaced it with his button-down shirt, but now they were both cold and suffering.