I smell the river before I see it. It’s the stench of low tide, when the rot hidden beneath the water is revealed. Thick mud teeming with worms and fish shit and dead algae, not to mention the crap that people toss into the river—plastic bottles and takeout wrappers. Safe to say, the gleam has worn off for me when it comes to this city and this game.
With two of my three lives gone, I emerge onto the embankment and find that dozens of contestants are already here. I’m not in the mood to chat though. There are too many thoughts tap-dancing in my brain, and my heart’s keeping time. So I wander along the river while I wait for the challenge to start.
I’m lurking under a bridge like a troll when I spot a familiar face. It’s Jesse from the museum. I freeze, thinking he’s spotted me, but then he hurries down a flight of stone steps onto the riverbank. I should get out of here. He accosted me after seeing me win those points from Erin, and it was only the approaching police that saved me from an awkward conversation.
Except he’s up to something. I approach the steps where he vanished and peer over the river wall. There’s a little stony beach down there, lapped by small waves. Vertical wooden beams make a hidden space beneath my feet, like the darkness beneath a pier. Jesse’s on the beach, fiddling with a metal box. I can’t figure out what it is.
His phone rings, and grumbling, he answers. “Yeah, I’m doing it now,” he says. “I was busy… No, stop. You’re not paying me enough to order me around.”
I lean over further and try to get a better angle on the box. Jesse looks up, and I barely manage to duck out of sight in time. That was dangerously close. I’m about to walk away when he says something that catches my attention. “Don’t worry, everything’s ready for Rose’s next appearance.”
I stop.
“I’m not asking questions. I make a point to stay out of rich-person bullshit, especially when dead girls are involved. I’m merely pointing out how I’d have asked for more money if I’d known what this favor would entail.”
He hangs up the phone. I don’t push my luck. I jog toward the rest of the contestants before he realizes I’ve been spying on him.
I discover that a crowd is blocking the sidewalk. Everyone is craning their heads to see down the river. Most are contestants, but there are several confused passersby in there too. “What’s happening?” I say, squeezing to the front.
“We’re not sure,” a girl says. “I think the challenge involves that boat.”
I can hear classical music. Approaching along the river is an old-fashioned tugboat, with black wooden sides and a tall red chimney wrapped in strings of lights. There’s a small lifeboat suspended above the deck, next to a cute little cabin in which the driver stands. On the roof, there’s a speaker spewing out the music.
“That’s Tchaikovsky’s ‘Swan Lake,’” someone says.
As the boat chugs closer, I realize that it’s pulling something behind it. A cluster of small white plastic boats—maybe a dozen of them. I stand on the first rung of the fence and squint. The boats have long swans’ necks.
“It’s like that video of his.” A contestant gasps. “The one where the Accomplices chased each other in swan paddleboats?”
“Don’t think I saw that one,” I say.
“It’s one of their most famous stunts.” The girl shuffles away from me as if my lack of fandom knowledge might somehow taint her.
The truth is, I have seen that particular video a dozen or more times. It was the stunt that led to my argument with Rose that saw us split up. See, at the end, Anton and Rose pedal off together on one of the boats, surrounded by postproduction hearts. She denied there was anything going on, but three months after we’d split up, they started dating for real.
The boat pulls up to the bank, deafening us with the music. Three men emerge onto the deck and mess with some ropes. Then the crowd shifts as a small but determined person comes pushing their way through. It’s Beatrix, her face pale and panicked. “Wait!” she yells at the driver of the boat. But her voice is lost to the music.
The men untie a floating ring of buoys, and the swans drift free. Then the boat powers away, leaving the swans bobbing sadly in the dark water. A couple run aground on the mud. One is picked up by a current and carried away, tipping in the wind and gradually filling with water.
“This is a disaster,” Beatrix says. “Thanks to Rose, Anton’s having trouble with his connection, and he hasn’t explained the challenge yet.”
“To be fair, I’m not sure swan boats on the Thames were ever going to end in anything but disaster,” I muse.
She glances at me, and her eyes crinkle in recognition. The color of her irises is even prettier beneath the streetlights. I shouldn’t stare, but I can’t help myself.
“Don’t,” she says, suppressing a laugh. “I have been the number one critic of this challenge, but literally no one listens to me.”
“I couldn’t do your job,” I say, forcing myself to look at her grubby Converse instead of her face.
“I mean, family isn’t really a job. But it would be nice if I didn’t already know I’ll get the blame when it goes wrong.” She grimaces at the swans, then turns away with a shudder. I follow her out of the crowd. “I’d better not get arrested,” she says sadly.
“You ever consider saying no to him?”
“He’s my brother and I love him,” she says. “Don’t you have someone you’d do anything for, even if it meant getting into trouble?”
I think of Rose. “Yeah, I suppose so,” I say.
She sighs and chews on the end of a braid. Then she spits it out like it tastes disgusting. “I’d better get going. See if I can fix this mess. The challenge was supposed to be over before anyone got a chance to call the police.”
“We’re sitting swans,” I say, nodding at my own joke. “You know, like ducks?”
“I got it, Grayson,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But thanks for the clarification.” As she leaves, she bumps her hip against mine.
I smile after her, and for five seconds, the world feels slightly lighter. Then Rose’s ghost appears through my smart glasses, and I remember why I’m here. Beatrix stops midstep and puts a hand to her mouth.
“Hello, losers,” Rose says, smiling gleefully. Her voice is crackly and disjointed, as is her face. But she’s still beautiful. “I wanted to say hello and see how you’re doing.”
“Oh no,” Beatrix says. “Not now.”
“What do you think about Matthew? Is he our killer, or will it be the next suspect?” Rose paces, a finger to her lips like she’s thinking.
I hold my breath and wait for the announcement.
Rose flicks her hair, and the movement is so familiar that it tears at my heart. Then she spins her big wheel of suspects, leaving it clackity-clacking its way around and around as she talks. “There’s a big Anton community on GossApp; I’m sure many of you are members. Back when I was alive, the Anton fans on GossApp used to love talking about me. You should have heard the things they used to say.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a light sweeping across the side of the closest bridge. It shows words moving over the concrete. It’s not just a trick projected on our lenses. The words are really there, for everyone to see.
I wish Rose would go away.
She’s such a bitch.
Someone should wipe that stupid smile off her face.
“All these comments were written by a single poster,” Rose continues as her wheel slows. “AntonsGirlXOXO. But they weren’t the only things she said.”
The comments on the bridge vanish, replaced by one that reads: DIE, DIE, DIE.
“AntonsGirlXOXO really didn’t like me, back when I was alive. She loves Anton though. What do you think? Did she kill me because she wanted Anton all for herself?”
The wheel clicks as the needle jumps between segments, slowing, slowing. Rose rips the black silhouette from the wheel to reveal her next suspect. “How are you going to explain this one, Charlotte?” Rose says. She laughs, her voice crackling like flames, then vanishes.
Charlotte. Matthew’s little sister. Wow, that’s a surprise. A murmur ripples across the rest of the contestants on the embankment, growing louder. Someone points. The crowd shifts. I see Charlotte. She looks like she’s hyperventilating. She stands there shaking with tears flooding down her face, as more and more people turn to stare at her.
The right thing to do would be to go over and reassure her. But I can’t stop thinking about Jesse. The words on the bridge are being projected from where I saw Jesse, down on the riverbank. This is what he was setting up. He works for Anton, but he’s the one helping Rose stage her appearances.
I don’t know how or why, but it’s him.
I jog toward the place where I saw Jesse, and it saves me. Because moments later, several police vans pull up, and shrill whistles sound. I hide under the bridge as all hell breaks loose. People scatter in every direction as police emerge from the vans and run at us. When the contestants realize that their land-based exits are blocked off, they clamber over the wall and drop down onto the riverbank.
There’s screaming and slipping and splashing. People pile onto the swan boats, several on one, tipping it from side to side. One boy clings on to the neck of a swan, his feet trailing in the water, as two girls pedal for the opposite side. The police yell and try to stop contestants from running into the river.
I can’t get caught. I’m wary of the police after that time I went off the rails and broke Neil’s nose at Rose’s memorial service. I can still remember being dragged into a squad car, crying my eyes out, while half my school watched. The powerlessness and the regret hurt more than my bruised fingers. So I slide off my glasses and pull my sleeve over my bracelet. The game’s offline. Anton won’t notice.
I slip unseen onto the riverbank, but there’s no sign of Jesse. A noise behind me makes me turn. Too quickly. I lose my footing on the mud, and the only way to go is down.