They returned to the ballroom—it was safer away from the knives, and they’d already checked it for traps. Shoes and clothes spilled out of different bags set in various corners, along with charging cords and toiletries.
“Okay, so what’s the clue?” Dude asked as he lowered himself to the floor.
The others settled on the floor as well, in a loose circle. Jalen sank down gingerly with Shelley’s help and leaned against a wall.
“The note,” Plum said. “We have a motive.”
Warix frowned. “Didn’t we have that before?” he asked. “When the previous poem said something about settling scores, right? So it’s revenge?”
Plum nodded. “Yes, but we didn’t know revenge for what.”
Shelley’s eyes widened. “That’s right, we just thought it was because the killer didn’t like influencers.”
Cici leaned over to Peach. “We went around the room, saying why we thought the killer had a grudge against us specifically, since we are all clearly being targeted.”
Peach’s eyes grew wide, and her mouth formed an exaggerated O. “You mean it’s not an accident that you guys are here?” she asked. She looked around the group for confirmation. “I just thought you were, like, party crashers. You mean you actually got invitations?”
Plum sighed. “Not exactly the time to start comparing clout scores, Peach.”
Peach huffed and smoothed her minidress. “I’m just saying I’m surprised I got invited and you guys also got invited. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Yes, you got invited. Maybe think about what that means,” Shelley scolded, twining her long red hair into a coil.
“I get invited to lots of things,” Peach sniffed.
“Oh my God, it means you’re a target, too, okay?” Shelley wound the coil into a bun.
Peach’s mouth opened as if she wanted to argue. Then it snapped shut.
“If we could just get to the point,” Dude grumbled.
“Right, what’s the motive?” Jalen asked wearily.
“The motive is revenge for mocking,” Plum said.
“That’s ridiculous!” Dude let a huff of disbelief. “I mean! That’s what happens online! Hell, that’s what happens on playgrounds! This guy should grow a damn backbone, suck it up, and move on!”
Marlowe jabbed a finger at Dude. “Sure, sure, that’s what normal people would do. The killer isn’t normal. How many times do we have to say it?”
Dude blew out a breath. He swiped his sunglasses off his head and started twirling them rapidly.
“You’re just nervous because if mockery is the reason, you’re definitely the next one to die,” Warix said, laughing.
“Listen, let’s not argue. Let’s work with what we have,” Plum interjected before Dude could start another fight. “The advantage we have, which the killer didn’t count on, is that Jalen’s alive.”
Cici gasped. “That’s right! Jalen can tell us who he mocked! We can figure out which one of us is the killer!”
“Um, the thing is,” Jalen stammered.
“I’m not the killer, so, like, maybe I should be the judge,” Peach said.
“Excuse me, what?” Warix turned with a gobsmacked expression on his face.
“We’re not the killer, either.” Plum gestured to herself and her friends. “Like we pointed out before, since we weren’t really targets.”
“So you say.” Dude threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “But there’s no way to prove it, even if, yes, it does seem less likely. You could still be the killer, or killers, working in cahoots.”
“What about Brittlyn?” Jude asked. “Didn’t we decide she’s the killer? And she’s hiding somewhere on the island?”
“No way was she the one who stabbed me,” Jalen said. “She’s not strong enough.”
“Great, now we can add sexism to the mix.” Cici crossed her arms. “Just because you think a woman isn’t strong enough doesn’t mean she can’t be! I can totally picture Brittlyn stabbing you with no problem.”
“It’s not sexism, I just—whoever opened that door was—” Jalen stammered.
“Listen, it’s not me, okay? You know how you can know? Because I literally just got here.” Peach’s hands bobbed with each word, emphasizing her point.
“So you say. You could have been hiding in that shed. Just being the devil’s advocate,” Dude argued, holding his hands up.
“But we searched everywhere?” Plum asked him.
Dude shrugged. “It could be like hide-and-seek. You know, if the killer moved from hiding place to hiding place, we could search and still not find them.”
“Oh my God, you saw Andre’s helicopter!” Peach argued.
“Listen, this is all getting us off track,” Plum interjected. “And we don’t need a judge, Peach, but thanks for offering.”
Peach made a face at Dude, then dipped her shoulder at Plum in a you’re welcome bob.
Plum took a deep breath. “What we should be talking about is Jalen. And who he relentlessly mocked. Because that’s how we can maybe figure out who the killer is.”
Jalen winced and looked down at his feet. “Remember what I told you? About my show before Bloody Grounds?”
“What was it?” Peach asked. “Have I heard of it?”
Jalen kept his gaze on the floor. “I don’t know. It was called Epic Fail. It mocked everyone. I wasn’t going out harassing anyone, but if there was a viral video or whatever, I’d crack jokes, play it, play it in slo-mo, you know.”
Plum felt the bubble of hope sinking in her chest. “There’s no way to narrow it down?” she asked, desperately trying to keep it afloat.
Jalen shook his head.
“That was nice while that lasted,” Warix said, his voice dripping with bitterness.
“What was?” Jude asked.
“Thinking we had the upper hand.”