“Next is BelleLow. This one is a little tricky because while she’s a well-known quicksilver—meaning she talks incredibly fast in one continuous take—in the past, she made anti-Jewel posts under a different username. A lot of people don’t know that.” Luna scrunched her face in discomfort.

“But you do,” Alex said with a laugh.

“Of course. It’s like my job to know.” Her phone chimed—a new Golden Rule notification. She picked up her phone and navigated to her inbox, practically on autopilot. “I haven’t told anyone that I know, and I’m on the fence about outing her. I don’t really want that kind of spotlight on me right now. People can change, you know? Maybe she did?”

“You’re way kinder than me,” he said. “And number three?”

Luna took a deep breath. “No clue,” she admitted. “StreetcarBouvier only has one video, and it wasn’t even that good. Interestingly, she joined the app two days ago, which I think is key. I just need a bit more time. I’ll figure it out eventuALLY OH MY GOD!” She threw her phone at him like it was on fire, yelping like a startled puppy.

“What!? What is it?”

“M-m-m-message! Message!” She pointed at the phone as he picked it up.

One new video message: from Jewel Van Hanen.

Alex grinned, mischievously evil and triumphant, as he pressed PLAY.

“Through all your researching and rewatching, and posting and predicting, did it ever occur to you that I might be watching you back? Hello, Luna.

“In any case, you have proven yourself worthy. You are hereby invited to Golden Weekend. Please use the links below to access your invitation, read the terms and conditions, complete your paperwork, and enter your contact information. An agent will be in touch shortly to arrange your travel—all expenses paid, of course.

“I hope you’re able to accept. I’m very much looking forward to meeting you.

“Oh, and because you’re only fifteen, my lawyers would like for you to bring a chaperone. Preferably eighteen or older, but we can accept sixteen if you both have parental approval.”

JADETHEBABE

Outside at 3:40 A.M., the cold air bit at Nicole just like everything else. Shoulders hunched near her ears, she speed-walked to her car, work apron hanging out of her coat pocket.

“Off to work?” a voice asked.

If Nicole were a different person, she would’ve jumped out of her skin. Instead she unlocked her car while turning her head to say, “Yeah,” and placed a finger on the trigger of her key-ring pepper spray.