“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.

“The game’s banned. We get suspended if we play,” Lia said. “And we would get disqualified and arrested if we pushed someone down the stairs just to win.”

“Look,” the cop said with a heavy sigh. “I know how y’all get with this game.”

“How do you know it’s not the person who killed Abby, Ben, and Cassidy?”

“You said it was a girl,” he said.

“I said they were in leggings and a jacket with a scarf over their face,” Lia said quickly. She had described every last detail she could remember, muttering them over and over to Devon so she wouldn’t forget. “I don’t know who they are.”

Detective James stepped out of an old tan Caprice and zeroed in on Lia. She winced.

Here Lia was, at the center of a mess, again.

“But I have seen this person before,” Lia said. Her sight was bleary now, but it hadn’t been when she had turned that corner. “Yesterday someone chased me through the park. This person had the same silhouette and hood and everything.”

“Okay,” the cop said. “Describe the first figure.”

Lia hadn’t been close enough to compare her height with theirs, but she knew how tall the fence was. Weight was impossible to guess. Build was better. Their face had been hidden behind a black scarf, but a few strands of hair had poked out from beneath it.

“Between five four and five ten, slender and maybe athletic, brown hair that’s at least shoulder length, a black cotton scarf, a pullover black hoodie, and solid white tennis shoes. The fancy wool kind. I don’t know the name.”

“Did anyone else happen to see them?” Detective James asked, coming to a stop right behind the cop.

“I think Devon did?” she said, but she was so unsure it came out as a question.

“I believe Mr. Diaz has already given his statement,” the detective replied, “and as I recall it, you weren’t supposed to go anywhere.”

Lia rubbed the wet neck of her shirt. “I needed to talk to Devon.”

“He is your boyfriend, right?” he asked.

Lia shrugged. She wasn’t entirely sure how she would describe him, but the detective was staring at her with his unreadable eyes.

“Stop talking.” Lia’s mom pushed around James and grabbed Lia’s arm. “I swear to God, Lia, not another word.”

“Mrs. Prince,” James said, “your—”

“Was cleared by the paramedics.” Lia’s mom tugged her toward the car, past Devon and his mom, and he raised his arms at Lia in question. “So we are leaving.”

“Wait.” Lia ripped her hand free. “I need to give Devon his shirt back.”

Her mom’s face got somehow stormier.

Lia made her way to Devon. “Bruised?” she asked.

“A little,” he said. “I told them about the messages, stairs, and whoever attacked you. I think they thought you pushed me, and I was protecting you? No offense, but I would not do that.”

“Yeah.” Lia pulled his shirt from her shoulders and handed it back to him. “If I ever do that, feel free to push me back.”

“I don’t think they really listened to me.” Devon’s gaze darted to his mom, and then he leaned into Lia and cupped her face in his hands. He whispered, “They didn’t leave after shooting you. They waited. I think they were trying to decide what else to do with you.”

She shook out her hair, wet clothes sticking to her skin, and fought back another shudder. “They’re probably not done with you either.”

They probably weren’t only going to pull him off the railing. The water gun and spiked water were insurance.

“Keep it.” Devon wrapped his shirt around Lia’s shoulders. “You should probably be in a car.”

It was nice to have someone’s attention solely on her. Devon had held back her hair while she had heaved up a lungful of water, and Lia’s mom still hadn’t asked if she was okay, only urged her to leave. It wasn’t winter anymore, but it was dark and windy, and the cold had sunk into Lia’s bones.

“I feel like a burrito,” she said.

“You look like a burrito.” He rubbed her shoulders. “A cold, soggy burrito.”

His lips, rolled together, twitched. Lia laughed.

“That cop called you my boyfriend,” she said softly. “We just haven’t talked about it and—”

His chest rumbled with laughter, and he patted her arm. “I know we probably should talk about that, but can we talk about it after all this is over and we’re not in the middle of three death investigations?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, and pulled away. “Of course.”

He squeezed her hands. “It’s just this is a lot and if someone is trying to kill me, then—”

“Lia!” Her mom broke away from where she was talking with the cops and James, and approached them.

Devon’s mom waylaid her with a hand on her arm, and Devon pulled away from Lia.

“You didn’t send any of those messages, did you?” he asked.

Lia shook her head. “Whoever was emailing you is probably the one who killed Cassidy.”

“It’s weird,” Devon said. “I was always next to Cass in lines. We used to play tic-tac-toe on the school assembly schedules.”

Cassidy Clarke and Devon Diaz—they were right next to each other alphabetically.

“Hello, Lia.” Dr. Diaz, Devon’s mom, walked over. “Thank you for not letting Devon fall off a flight of stairs.”

Devon had inherited her height and sharp features, but her brown skin was a shade darker and warmer and her black hair cut short in a perfect bob. It looked lovely against her red coat and white scarf.

Very aware of the damp hair stuck to her face and how her mascara must have run, Lia only nodded and said, “Of course.”

Such an offhanded comment, but it was the key to all of it. This was what Lia couldn’t think of when staring at the roster in her journal and erasing their scratched-out names. The deaths were in the order of the class list, just like her journal had been. Ascher, Barnard, Clarke, and Diaz.

“You were always next, Devon,” she said. “It’s your names.” She was going to say more, but her mom, expression tense, started walking toward them again. Devon let his mom lead him to her car, and Lia braced herself for her mom’s wrath. She stopped before Lia, taking her in.

“What happened now?” her mom asked. “You couldn’t wait until this had all blown over?”

As if Lia were the cause of the problems, no questions asked. She got no benefit of the doubt. She got dealt with.

“Devon might have died,” Lia said, “and you want that to blow over?”

“We told you to stay home. We told you to withdraw from the game,” she said. “This is serious, Lia. This is a police investigation. Children are dead, and you’re running around like nothing has changed.”

“It wasn’t part of the game!” Lia said, her shivering slurring her words. “I had to talk to him, and then someone attacked him.”

Her mom’s shoulders slumped. She reached out as if to hug Lia and instead rubbed her shoulder. “You are very lucky that Devon and Mr. Jackson both saw the person who did it when you chased them out.”

Mr. Jackson was worth five school security guards.

“They’ll try to kill Devon again,” Lia said. “Detective James gets that, right?”

“Lia.” Her mother sighed and unlocked the car. “There is a murderer on the loose. They’re not going to waste their time playing pranks on you.”

But they sure did waste a lot of time emailing Devon and pretending to be Lia.