By the time we make it to our seats, the crowd erupts in applause. Shy jogs onto the field, helmet in one hand, the other raised, waving to the crowd. He runs to the coach, whose exaggerated arms and yelling can’t mask his relief. After a few orders, Shy and Jacobi trade places on the field. Shy pumps his arms in the air, urging the crowd to their feet, and like any disciples, they follow his will, chant his name, sing his praise. Everyone but me, who can’t quite shake that this kid, this all-American quarterback, carries a scythe, the same weapon used by the boy who tried to kill me before.

As Shy and his now-unified team pull us out of defeat, my gaze settles on Jacobi, who sits alone on a bench near the sidelines, helmet off, hair wet with sweat, evidence of his hard work, all ignored because it didn’t mean victory. Despite feeling sorry for him, I still wonder if he carries a scythe too.

“He’ll be okay,” Lily says. I meet her gaze. “Jacobi’s used to this.”

“Used to it?”

“We’re all used to it,” she amends. “Shy’s…gifted. He’s a seventeen-year-old imbued with the soul of someone much older and practiced.”

Someone older. My stomach clenches.

“No one’s that perfect,” I try to joke.

She smiles. “I didn’t say he was perfect.”

And yet in all his imperfection, Shy leads Nacoma Knight to victory. Teammates fly across the field to lift him on their shoulders, and he takes it all in like a God receiving prayer. Who is Shy Savior? Student, quarterback…assassin?

When his feet touch the ground again, he’s crowded by coaches and cheerleaders. Natalie pushes her way forward and throws her arms around his neck. I expect Shy to push her away, but instead he gathers her close, lifting her off the ground in a hug.

A shock of jealousy runs through me, winding tight around my heart. How can I feel jealous of someone I don’t completely trust? Someone who carries a scythe? As if Shy senses what’s happening inside me, his eyes find mine. There’s tension in the look we exchange, the result of our encounter in the woods. He disentangles himself from Natalie, who seems to notice he’s distracted and turns my way.

That’s when I look away.

“You okay?” Lily asks.

“Yeah,” I breathe, feeling the weight of this evening on my shoulders. “I’m just tired.”

Lily maintains a soft smile, like she understands everything and everyone.

“We can go.”

I don’t hesitate to take her up on her offer, and we leave the stadium. As we retreat from the stands, Lennon comes up behind me, looping her arm through mine. She slows down so that Sara and Lily wander ahead of us.