So the Council was still a mystery, then, but at least one concerned about legality.
Lia threaded her fingers through the table lattice. “Ben’s good, though, and he always goes all in.”
“I can’t believe your terrible flirting convinced Devon to play,” Gem said. “He’s walking over here, by the way.”
Devon usually ate with a handful of orchestra kids. He walked through the crowd toward their table. “Why do I feel like you set this up?” he said, dropping his bag onto the bench next to Lia and crossing his arms.
“Are any of the other orchestra kids playing?” Lia asked. “They group friends and classmates together.”
“Yeah,” Gem said, “we can’t have you and the second violin bitter about Assassins for the rest of the year after she kills you.”
He shook his head. “Most of them aren’t. We have rehearsal every night for the spring concert. It’s too easy to take us out.”
“Well, now you have us and Ben to protect you.” Lia smiled. “Did you read the rules?”
“Yes, but I’m assuming you have it all planned out. You love things like this,” Devon said.
Lia did love things like this—tabletop games, escape rooms…anything that relied on strategy and not luck—but how did he know that?
“Do I talk about it too much?” Lia asked. She talked about it sometimes. Maybe that was how he knew.
“No, you smile when you talk about things you like.” Devon read over the email again, his nose crinkling. “What happened three years ago?”
“Someone modded a paintball gun to shoot water balls that would pop on impact.” Lia held up her bio notebook and pointed to her labeled sketch of an eye. “Mark said the shooter hit a kid in the eye and got disqualified.”
She said it in a whisper. No one ever got disqualified. To be kicked out of the game was to be the ultimate buzzkill and loser. Getting disqualified meant you had done something bad enough to get removed and put the game in danger of being shut down. Disqualified kids were basically outcasts for the rest of the school year. Lia would die before suffering disqualification.
The kid who had been hit had deferred his first year of college. Lia’s older brother, Mark, had gotten third place that year, betraying his best friend on the final day. It wasn’t an academic achievement, but their parents had still been proud. Their pride only grew when college decisions came in.
He’d gotten scholarships and a special dinner. He’d gotten into MIT and been gifted a new car. Lia had gotten eighteen years of parents and teachers comparing her to him. She was always “Mark’s sister.”
Not this year. This year, she’d be better. If they had been proud of him for Assassins, they could be proud of her, even if it was only a game.
“Your priorities amaze me,” Devon said.
“Why?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“The kid could have died, and you’re concerned about them still being counted ‘out’ in the game.” He looked at her and smiled. “You’d murder me in a heartbeat, wouldn’t you?”
“Only metaphorically.” Lia leaned back against the table. She had teased a smile out of Devon Diaz! Twice in three days! Sure, they had all been about murder, but that counted. “I would’ve made it a fun murder.”
“At least neither of you have to worry about it now,” Gem said. “Ben usually trains during lunch, so we’ll have to talk to him later.”
Impulsively, Lia uncapped her pen with her mouth and drew her phone number on Devon’s hand.
“Text me after school,” she said. “I’ll send out the plan.”
“Great.” He ran his thumb across the ink. “Can’t wait to win.”
Lia’s skin prickled at the easy way he trusted her.
The moment he was out of earshot, Lia grabbed Gem’s arm. “Was he being sarcastic?”
“I don’t think so,” Gem said. “I’ve never seen you romantically distracted. This’ll be fun.”
“This will be perfect.” Lia pulled up her schedule of all the seniors’ movements—when they got to school, their classes, where they ate lunch, when they left and how, and what they did after—and scrolled to Ben’s section. “He has a thirty-minute break between school and practice, and practice ends at four-thirty on Fridays. I’ll send out the plan then. Think we can get him tomorrow?”
“I’ve got nothing tonight and tomorrow, and then family brunch Sunday,” Gem said. “Rusty is ours.”
Rusty was the old red Saturn Gem shared with their younger sister, and it ran fine but looked rough after fifteen years. Gem was the only one with access to a car, though.
“Good. That’ll be safer,” Lia said.
Lia created a group text for her, Gem, Devon, and Ben.
Tomorrow we follow Abby. Gem and I will pick up Ben at 5:45 AM and Devon at 6:00 AM. Be ready. I’ll explain the plan then.
She was taking charge of the team, but someone had to, and if anyone was qualified, it was her.
Ben sent back sixty-nine exclamation points.
A few minutes later Devon texted back.
You still owe me a water gun, Prince
Blue, green, or yellow?
Surprise me
The next morning, Gem and Lia met in Gem’s driveway at five, and Lia waved to the yawning Mrs. Hastings, who was standing at the door. Lia wore black leggings, an old blue sweatshirt, and running shoes. Her hair was in a ponytail, and the only makeup she wore was mascara and some lip balm. It was easy for Lia to go unnoticed; she was middling. She doubted the assassin who had her name even knew what she looked like. Not that she was leaving her survival to chance; her neighbor walked her dog every morning at five, rain or shine, and Lia had walked over with her.
“I can’t believe you have the whole senior class tracked,” Gem said. “It’s creepy.”
“Which is why I’m not telling anyone,” Lia said as they got in the car. She scrolled through her spreadsheets. “And all the information I have, people blabbed about freely. It’s not like I hacked their calendars.”
Lincoln was a strip of hilly, boggy, foresty land in the way that only Arkansas could be, and the car wound its way from the dark streets that were too remote to warrant streetlights to the well-lit stretch of perfectly manicured lawns along Highway 10. Gem and Lia lived in the center of Lincoln, and their neighborhood was a mix of lower-middle-class people and people pretending to be middle class and ignoring the rising costs of their area. Ben’s family was new money, and he lived a good twenty minutes from Gem. White stone columns and peaked roofs replaced the skyline of evergreens and listing power lines.