“Check the phone in this bag,” Lia said. “Now.”

Gem rifled through the smaller pocket, unzipped a little leather pouch, and pulled out the phone. “We need the passcode.”

“One minute.” Devon tossed everything back into the bag and zipped it up. “Skip it.”

“No,” Lia said, “give it to me.” She held it up and tilted it back until the oily surface was revealed, and four prints with little scratches from Faith’s nail stared back at Lia.

“One, five, and zero,” Lia said.

Devon winced and rifled through the rest of a bag. “I think that’s eighty-one possible passcodes?”

“Thirty-six,” Gem said quickly. “That’s thirty-six possibilities if each one is used at least once and one is repeated.”

“Work smarter, not harder,” Lia whispered.

Even now, days later, Lia could remember the tone Faith had used when asking Lia about her test scores.

Lia typed in 1510 and the phone unlocked, revealing a homepage cordoned off into neat little squares full of apps. Lia opened the last-used mail app and found nothing. There were no emails to Devon.

She looked up the phone’s IP address and locked the phone, putting it back into its pouch.

“Time,” Devon said, closing the bag he was searching. “Lia, put it away.”

She couldn’t move. The scuff of Ms. Christie’s Crocs echoed down the hall. Gem ripped the journal from Lia’s trembling hands and returned it to the backpack. Devon darted down the aisles to make sure everything was in place, and the two of them took their seats. Lia lingered, standing, near her desk. She knew whose bag it was, but she checked her desk map to confirm whose seat it was anyway. Her finger traced the edges of the killer’s name.

“I did everything right,” Lia whispered. “I’m not sure why I didn’t get higher. I earned it.”

Devon stared at her, eyes wide, and the pencil in his grip snapped. Gem looked from him to Lia.

“What?” they asked.

“Lia?” Ms. Christie called from the door. “Is everything all right? You look frightened.”

Lia turned to her. She felt light. She felt cold. She was completely unmoored from her body, and the words tumbled out of her in an awkward staccato. “I’m fine. Thank you. I just realized something I should have noticed earlier.”

Her teacher nodded and sat at her desk. Lia crumpled up the page of her journal and tossed it into the trash. She sat between Devon and Gem.

“You know who it is, don’t you?” Gem asked quietly.

Devon nodded, and Lia opened up her Assassins journal. It was a taunt. Her knowledge had done this. Her drive to win had gotten her friends killed.

“She copied my journal and color-coded all the information she stole,” whispered Lia. “Our lives are just footnotes to her.”

“They won’t believe me,” Lia said.

“Why?” Devon asked as they left Ms. Christie’s room. “Why any of it?”

“Maybe the scholarship idea was right. Maybe she hated us all these years. Maybe she just likes killing.” Lia walked through the hallway, her mind racing. “Does it matter? You’re definitely next, and Georgia’s in danger.”