When they got home, Lia’s mom had a metal lockbox on the kitchen counter. Inside was Lia’s phone, laptop, Switch, bike lock key, and house keys. Her mom shut and locked it all in the box in front of her.

“What are you doing?” Lia asked. “I need to talk to Devon.”

“You talked to Devon.” Her mom’s jaw tightened. “You snuck out of the house against our orders and the police, and you nearly got Devon killed. You’re done talking.”

“I saved him!” she protested.

“People are dead, Lia! You are not a hero. I’m tired of your obsession with Assassins. It’s done.” She grabbed Lia’s arm and yanked her down the hall. “Abby Ascher was murdered in this neighborhood. What were you thinking biking that far alone?”

Lia dug her heels into the carpet, dragging them to a stop right outside her door. “I know Abby’s dead. I know where she died. I know how she died. I know what she sounded like as she died and what she looked like after. I know how happy Ben was the night before he died, and I know how still he was the next day. My friends are dead. You can’t expect me to not do anything!”

Her mom paused in the bright light of the hallway, her hair stuck to her lips and mud trailing behind her shoes. “One thing, Lia. We have asked you to do one thing.”

“You never asked me to do anything,” whispered Lia. “The cops said don’t go anywhere, and they meant don’t leave town. And I haven’t.”

“You always pick apart things until you find what you think is a loophole,” her mom said, shaking her head. “You’re not as smart as you think you are. Sometimes you just have to do as asked.”

“I’ve always done what you’ve asked.” Lia yanked her arm away. “I gave up debate. I gave up piano. I gave up Latin for Spanish. I have done everything you asked and nothing I wanted. All those AP classes you made me take—I hate them. All those tutors and competitions? I did those because you asked.”

“That isn’t fair, Lia,” her mom said. “That was for you. For your own good.”

“No, I wasn’t good enough for you!” Lia shouted. “What I liked wasn’t good enough for you.”

Her mom was silent for a moment. “We’ll talk in the morning,” she said quietly. “They’re canceling school after Monday until this is dealt with. Monday, I will drop you off, and I will pick you up. You will stay at home. You will do the homework they give you. You can have your things back when you stop acting like a child.”

After her mom left, Lia tore through her old dresser picking through frayed cables and broken keyboards. “Aha!” She pulled out an old flip phone. The charger tumbled out with it. “Come on. Come on.”

The old phone powered on. Lia scrolled through the options, each screen taking an age to load. She had no cell service, but it would still connect to Wi-Fi. Lia typed in the password, messing up every other letter on the number pad. The loading signal kept loading.

“Lights out!” her mom shouted through the door.

Lia turned off the light. The phone connected, and she crawled into bed with it in one hand and her Assassins journal in the other. It took another five minutes to get to a chat screen on the HTML free page no one used anymore. She sent a single message to the group chat they had made for their Assassins’ team. Ben’s icon stayed shadowed and silent, but she liked the idea that their words still reached some part of him.

What do they all have in common? Lia asked the chat.

It took three minutes to send.

Gem’s response was instant. YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU GOT INTERROGATED AS A SUSPECT AND THEN SNUCK OUT OF YOUR HOUSE FOR A DATE?

Lia winced.

It wasn’t a date, Devon said. Someone has been sending me emails from Lia’s account and pretending to be her

They even emailed the Council, Lia said. She tapped the keys and sank deeper beneath her blanket. The Council knew it wasn’t me, though. How?

Ellipses danced next to Devon’s name. Three dead students, all related to Lia, and a series of emails that make her sound like she’s becoming a bit too obsessed with the game. This is too much for it not to be related. In another town, maybe three students would die in one month, but this is Lincoln. We didn’t have that many students to begin with

Lia glanced out her bedroom window, never more aware that her one-story home was so vulnerable. Anyone could reach her window. But Detective James didn’t seem like he thought we were lying, right?

No. Especially since we have other witnesses

Let’s go over it then, Devon said, and Lia imagined him—glasses slipping down his nose, hair in disarray as he ran his hand through his hair. Tonight felt way too personal to be just about the game.

So, Lia said, why kill Abby Ascher, Ben Barnard, and Cassidy Clarke?

She underlined their names in her journal and skipped Eric Bins.

You said I was next, Devon typed slowly, each word showing up a few seconds after the other. So someone is killing people in alphabetical order with matching initials?

Serial killers do weird things, Gem said.

Eric Bins is between Ben Barnard and Cassidy Clarke, but it would be a huge coincidence for it to go alphabetically after tonight. Lia scratched out Eric’s name. After Devon was Andrew Doyle, Kaitlyn Eames, and Emma Earl. Maybe you four did something to them? And who’s Emma Earl?

Georgia. She goes by her middle name, said Gem. Someone could’ve been jealous of Abby and Cass, but Ben was aggressively nice. No way someone wanted revenge against him.

Abby and Cass had just gotten the Governor’s Scholarship like I did, Devon said, but Ben hadn’t

Lia turned to a fresh page of her journal and wrote down A. Ascher, B. Barnard, C. Clarke, and D. Diaz. The pen spun in her hand, and she added one last name.

E. Earl.

May got the scholarship. Gem sent a screenshot of a conversation. She found out a few weeks ago, but she’s deferring for a year. Her scholarship slot is going to the next in line.

The names were the strongest link, but Eric Bins interrupted it. The scholarship connection was weak, and May had only told Gem after Ben’s death. How would anyone have known who got it early? It was like when Lia had tried to bake pumpkin pie at Christmas but forgot eggs; she was missing something and without it, nothing would set. She shook her head.

I mean, I sort of get killing over a full ride, Gem said finally. Especially for legacy students. It’s bragging rights, room and board, and no worry in the back of your mind about what comes next.

Gem, how is May? Lia typed.

She just wants to talk about Ben. Gem went silent for a moment. Whoever did this is a monster.

A monster who knows a terrifying amount about us, Devon said. Our schedules, our plans…they even know Lia snuck out tonight to meet me.

Lia swallowed and typed the words she had been dreading. If you had fallen over the railing, it would’ve looked like I pushed you. They’re setting me up. And they’re definitely watching me.

Neither of them responded.

They’re probably the one who stole my journal, Lia said, flipping through the pages. That’s how they knew everyone’s schedules and that Ben was allergic to latex.

They’re smart enough to plan and escape the cops, Gem said, but not smart enough to realize they won’t get the scholarship this way.

Lia hesitated. If they’re going to frame me, that breaks the alphabet trend, and I’m not in line for the scholarship. I’m nowhere close. Why me?

No offense, but more pressing—this means they’re in our biology class. That’s what this means, right? Gem asked. And if they’re canceling school, kids will be home alone all day. They’ll be vulnerable.

Lia closed her Assassins journal and looked toward her dark window. Was the killer watching her now? My mom is dropping me off and picking me up. I’ve got no phone or computer.

How are you talking to us now? Devon asked.

Old flip phone on Wi-Fi.

Lia got up and wedged three pencils into the sliding window to keep it shut just in case the lock was picked. She pulled the blinds shut.

We stop this now, Lia said. No more sitting ducks. Tomorrow we go after them.