Devon’s parents, though skeptical, agreed to let Devon spend the night at Gem’s with Lia so long as all of them were in the living room and their hands were in sight at all times. Gem assumed Devon was joking about that. Lia wasn’t so sure.
“What?” Gem asked as they sat in the car and finished off the last of their snacks. “Like you’re going to go at it while I’m right there?”
Gem fake heaved, and Lia forced herself to smile. She knew she should have laughed. If it were any other day, she would have, but it was today and she felt like happiness was a dream. Maybe if she faked it, she would be happy. There’d been a moment with Gem after Nora was out that she felt vaguely happy. It had faded as fast as it had come, though.
“Ask your mom,” Gem said. “I want to get home.”
Lia’s mom was easier to convince; Lia had spent enough time at Gem’s over the last decade, but Devon’s presence was just a new wrinkle between her mom’s brows. Gem’s mom worked in security and promised to keep an eye on the three. Ben’s killer was still on the loose anyway. Gem’s house was safer.
Devon texted them midway through their parents’ three-way phone call.
Lia pushed open the car door. “Let’s clean up before we head back, then.”
The last few days of driving everyone around had tracked in dead leaves and mud. Gem tossed several empty cans to Lia and pulled the floor mats out of their car. Lia bent over the back of the car and gathered up every piece of junk she could find. Arms full, she stood and looked for the trash can. It was bolted to a post at the edge of the parking lot. Behind it stood a hooded figure.
Lia froze, but the figure didn’t. They were short and hooded, and their hands were tucked into their pockets. Lia couldn’t make out their face. Gem shook out another floor mat.
“Lia, just toss it.” Gem looked up at her. “What are you doing?”
“Turn around,” Lia said.
Gem’s eyes widened, and they pivoted. The figure in the distance waved. That was far too friendly for a murderer. Probably.
“Well, screw that,” Gem said. “Let’s get out of here.”
By the time they had locked the car doors, the figure was gone. They had vanished over the crest of the hill and into the neighborhood around the park. Gem kept their water gun up and ready to go. Lia raced to the trash can to toss their trash and studied the footprints near it.
Converse. Not helpful.
“It’s my assassin, right?” Lia asked. “Not—”
“Yeah, has to be. They waved.” Gem laughed. “We’re fine. We’re paranoid, but we’re fine.”
“Let’s just go.” Lia walked backward to the car, one hand clasped tightly around Gem’s jacket. There was no movement in the trees. As they drove away, light flickered twice in the distance like two glowing eyes, but they turned a corner and it was gone.
Lia sank down into her seat. “Of course they pick now to show their face.”
“Who do you think it is?” Gem asked.
They spent the whole car ride and the hour after at Gem’s house discussing it, but they were no closer to a definite answer when Devon showed up.
He fiddled with the straps of his bag and lingered in the entryway. “I’m glad you guys invited me. I keep having weird dreams and stuff. You know.”
“Yeah,” Gem said, “we know.”
They all knew what Ben looked like dead, and there was no one else they could talk to about that.
“Come on.” Gem clapped him on the shoulder and nodded toward the living room. “I think we all need this.”
The Hastings’ house was an odd mix of old, sagging furniture covered in blankets, half-put-together computers, and crafting supplies. Otter, the family cat, wove her way between their legs and beneath the coffee table to sniff at Devon until she was satisfied.
Mr. Hastings came back inside, and Otter scrambled up his legs until he gathered her up like a baby.
“Now, we’re supposed to keep an eye on you, which should be easy,” Mr. Hastings said. He locked the door behind himself, and the security system let out a comforting beep. “Lia, we haven’t seen you outside of school since eighth grade. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
Mr. Hastings put them through all the usual questions and recruited them to help cook dinner. Devon chopped onions while Gem minced garlic, and Lia, in charge of making the rice, dabbed at Devon’s stinging eyes with a dishcloth when the onions became too much. Mr. Hastings kept an eye on them as he dealt with the chicken. Mrs. Hastings got home with Gem’s brother just as dinner was ready.
Over dinner, they talked about school and orchestra, the game a little bit, and Gem’s disastrous attempts at carpentry for the school play, and everything except the deaths. Gem’s little brother Harrison was in band and talked to Devon about music nonstop. No one else in the family played, and Devon didn’t seem to mind. Mrs. Hastings only stopped Harrison when he forgot to eat.
It was a sort of love Lia couldn’t comprehend. Gem’s parents didn’t care what their kids wanted to do but went all in every time. Lia’s parents had tried to curate her high school years as if she were an art gallery only open to college admissions.
“I told them to cool it on questions about how you are,” Gem whispered after their mom had asked about how Lia was liking school. “Sorry. I don’t know how long it will last.”
Lia laughed and smiled. “With any luck, they’ll be too into talking about orchestra with Devon.”
Her mom kept texting about the “sleepover” and what they would do after, and it made Lia feel like a toddler. That was probably on purpose.
But more than anything, it felt like a normal, happy night.
The house creaked all night long after everyone crawled into bed. It had been easy to forget the horrors outside while everyone was awake, Devon helping Harrison with his music homework and Lia destroying Mr. Hastings in a game of Risk in record time. There was no pressure. There was no threat.
It was harder to not see Abby and Ben every time Lia closed her eyes once the main light went out and the dark oozed around her.
“I keep thinking about Omelet,” whispered Lia. “He didn’t want to leave Abby.”
“I’m glad we found Ben.” Gem reached underneath the blankets and laced their fingers with Lia’s. “If we hadn’t, May would have.”
Gem’s parents had left their bedroom door open, and Devon had been banished to a sleeping bag on the far side of the room. Of course, once everyone else had left, he had dragged it nearer to Lia so that they could talk.
Lia shuddered. His sleeping bag rustled. Fingers gently touched the ends of her hair.
“You need more sleep,” he said softly, as if she were an easily spooked cat.
“We all do.” She licked her lips and turned to face him. “Have you been sleeping?”
“You know I haven’t been,” he replied. “It’s weird that it happened so soon after Abby.”
“They questioned me longer after Ben,” Lia said. Two kids in Lincoln, both playing the game, dead within two weeks of each other. “What could Ben have ever done that someone would want to kill him?”
Whoever had been after Ben had enjoyed killing him, and that made it so much worse.
“Maybe they just wanted to kill somebody,” Gem said. “Some people like killing.”
Lia shuddered. “I think the police thought I did it, a little bit, at first.”
“I’m pretty sure Omelet would have eaten you if you hurt Abby.” Devon’s long fingers wove their way through her hair, curling the ends. In the dark, she could only see the soft glint of his eyes. “Abby tripped, and what reason would you even have for killing Ben?”
“His assassin got him? I don’t know.” She shook her head and sighed. “I keep thinking about his hand. That was where he got shot, and they destroyed it.”
“I know we’re here to talk,” Gem said, “but I don’t know if I can handle this level of gruesome before sleeping.”
“Sorry,” Lia said. “Have your parents been doing that thing where they only mention how sad it is that their plans were cut short?”
Devon groaned. “No, but my mom’s friend did. Such bright futures snuffed out too soon.”
“Just as bad.” Lia brought one hand up to Devon’s face. “I hate it.”
Her fingertips brushed his jaw. She had never imagined sleeping near him. That seemed intimate and tender, like sharing a cup of tea or a deep, dark secret. She traced the slant of his jaw and the arch of his nose, felt the slight bump of a scar near his ear and the flutter of his lashes against her knuckles, and she rested her hand against his cheek. He ran his hand from her scalp to her shoulders.
“Having plans doesn’t make a person more valuable,” Devon whispered. He booped her nose.
“If I hear one more person lament the loss of Abby but not Ben because of how promising she was, I’ll scream. They always bring up his football as if they need to find something for him to be good at for him to be worth mourning.” Gem, on their back and glaring at the ceiling, rolled their head back and forth. “It’s so…”
“Gross?” Lia offered.
Devon snorted. “That’s one word for it, and not the one I would use.”
“Do you think the school would be as sad if it were other kids?” Lia turned over onto her stomach. “Not the other students but like the teachers? Principal White?”
“They would say yes,” Gem said, “but they’re liars. They make such a big deal out of college and life plans.”
Lia folded one arm under her cheek and lay the other near Devon’s shoulder. Cheek squished against her arm, sight slightly blurred, she closed her eyes. There was no danger here.
“I have no clue what I’m doing,” Lia said. “I wonder what they would say if it had been me.”
Even the idea was selfish in her mouth, drying out the words till her tongue stuck to her teeth.
“Remember Mr. Allen?” Gem asked. “He told me not to bother with law school. He said I would be better suited to a liberal arts degree.”
Devon gagged. “What does he think people study before law school?”
“Who knows?” Gem said. “And who cares? People work! People exist! Some don’t even do high school! They’re the ones up in arms over shoving us into majors.”
“Devon, how did you know you wanted to be a doctor?” Lia asked.
Devon shifted onto his back, his silhouette like the sharp peaks of a cliff against the dim light filtering in from outside. “I broke my arm the summer of seventh grade and the doctor was really nice. She worked in the ER, and my mom is a doctor, but dermatology was never really interesting. I could sort of see myself being there one day? I might change my mind. I think a lot of people do.”
“My cousin didn’t realize until her first gross lab that she couldn’t do corpses.” Gem hugged Lia and pulled away. “She does research now.”
“Yeah, we’ll find out if I vomit, I guess,” he said, and swallowed.
They all knew he wouldn’t. He hadn’t when they had found Ben.
“I didn’t know what to do before all this happened.” Lia reached out and traced the crests and dips of Devon’s face. His breath warmed her skin. “Now what?”
“You don’t have to go to college right out of high school, you know,” Gem said. “You could work for a while or do trade school. They just don’t like telling us those options.”
They weren’t prestigious enough. That was the implication. But Lia was already the less-than-ideal student. To be average was to be invisible.
“I know,” Lia said, “but I still feel like a failure sometimes.”
It was impossible not to. They started studying for the ACT and SAT in middle school, and even before that they had to pass the state tests. Schools took out newspaper ads—as if it were 1970—to advertise their students’ college choices with no options for kids who were taking a break, working, or going to trade school. Most of the counselors at Lincoln were nice and kept community college information on hand, but the principal never even mentioned it when talking about futures during school assemblies. It was as clear as day in the ways Abby’s death was cast against Ben’s. If he weren’t a football star, people might have written his loss off altogether.
It made Lia sick.
Gem yawned and rolled over. “I’m going to put my earbuds in. Don’t be weird and make me regret this.”
Lia glanced at Devon. “Do people think we’re incapable of being alone together?”
“Yeah, I think so.” He pushed himself up onto his elbows and dropped his chin onto his hands. “You’re really good at puzzles.”
“Thank you?” Lia exhaled. “Not like that will get me far in life. The escape room has already been invented.”
“Who would want to leave a room you’re in anyway?” he asked.
Lia leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, and suddenly his hand was tangled in her hair. His gasp died against her lips, and he tilted his head till their noses were pressed together. His thumb stroked her ear. Lia pulled away. He kissed the tip of her nose.
“I would rather not betray the trust of the people who are basically my second set of parents,” Lia said, “but you’re not going back to the other side of the room, right?”