These Deadly Games(14)

I grabbed the box and peeled off the plastic wrap. “Let’s try it.” It wasn’t Manhunt, but excitement bubbled in my belly, anyway—I loved playing new games, learning all the rules, seeing how they worked.

Matty scanned the instructions. “We need teams of two.”

I glommed onto Akira’s arm, claiming her as my partner. Zoey’s eyes flicked to us. “Uh…”

And Matty and Randall were already bumping fists.

That left Brady.

He stared at Zoey expectantly, a half smile puffing out his cheeks. But Zoey screwed up her face. Ugh, did she have to be so obvious?

Brady wasn’t the best at most games. He ran the slowest and had zero hand-eye coordination. As a klutz myself, being on his capture the flag or softball team guaranteed a loss. But this was a board game. That didn’t matter now.

“Zoey—” I started.

“It’s my birthday,” Zoey said. “I get to pick the teams. Me and Kiki, Matty and Randall, and Crystal and Brady.” Brady stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared at the carpet.

Heat simmered in my belly. “Hey, you didn’t pick new teams. You just took my partner.” There’d been this weird tension between me and Zoey lately. Like whenever she, Akira, and I walked down the halls at school, she’d shift in front of me and slow, so she’d walk next to Akira while I trailed behind. Or whenever she made her origami fortune-tellers, she’d only ask Akira to pick numbers and colors. I’d tried brushing off these little snubs, but they were piling up, and I didn’t know what it meant.

Matty glanced at me. “We could do boy, girl, boy, girl?”

“Or we can draw straws,” Akira suggested.

Brady gripped his stomach. “Actually, I’m not feeling well. I’m gonna go home.” His voice shook. Were those tears glimmering in his eyes?

Zoey’s eyes filled with regret. “Aw, Brady, don’t go.”

“I didn’t mean—” I started, matching everyone’s chorus of protests.

“No, really, I don’t feel so good. I’ll … I’ll see you.” He sprinted up the stairs, leaving his sleeping bag and backpack behind.

Nobody chased him.

About ten minutes later, I mustered the guts to bring him back from his house next door.

Later, we’d all wish I never did.





CHAPTER 5


I made a beeline toward the parking lot, my jacket forgotten in my hurry to get outside. You were supposed to get approval from the school nurse to leave early, but I was beyond caring about school rules at this point.

I had a new set of rules to follow.

But who was setting them? Who the hell would kidnap my sister? And why would they want to get Dylan suspended? None of this made sense.

Meager clusters of students occupied the picnic tables on the lawn bordering the lot. As I passed them, my attempts to look calm and collected must have been laughable—my already-big eyes were probably bugging out of my skull, and the crisp breeze was making me convulse with shivers. I glanced in the nylon bag, unable to resist satiating my curiosity any longer. There was an old-school flip phone and something that looked like a walkie-talkie— “Crys!” someone called.

Well, crap.

Akira and Randall huddled at one of the tables. They must’ve had this period free. I hesitated as they waved me over, wanting to get home per An0nym0us1’s instructions. And the sooner I got home, the sooner I could make sure Caelyn was okay.

But it was more than that.

As much as I hated to admit it, even to myself, I was itching to find out what came next in this game. Because here’s the thing: Whoever would hold a thirteen-year-old hostage clearly had a twisted mind, but when they made sure I was in the right place at the right time to see Dylan get busted, I knew I was dealing with a mastermind. Chills had swept through me, and not just from terror.

From intrigue.

For me, there was nothing so tantalizing as a cunning opponent.

Guilt mangled my heart. Of course I was terrified for my sister. Of course I wanted to play this game to get her back. But I also wanted to outsmart its creator. I wanted to win.

Ignoring my friends would set off alarm bells, so I jogged over. “What’re you doing out here?” I tried to keep my voice steady and failed miserably. “It’s freezing.”

Akira frowned and brushed her windswept chin-length hair from her eyes, taking in my lack of a coat. “It’s not that bad.” But she was siphoning Randall’s body heat while polishing off a PB&J sandwich. Despite everything, I was relieved to see her eating. Akira had been in recovery from anorexia for over a year now, but I still worried about her constantly.

Randall tugged the hem of my sweater. “Hear about Dylan?”

My insides lurched. “How’d you know about that?”

“You didn’t see Matty’s texts?” Akira brandished her phone. I glanced at mine and saw I’d missed a string of notifications from our dormant texting chain from before Dylan joined our group.

“He saw it go down,” said Randall.

“So did I,” I said.

Akira leaned forward, breathless. “Oh my God. What did he do? What did he say?”

I shrugged. “He seemed freaked out. He denied it.”

“He would.” Randall chuckled.