These Deadly Games(15)
My breath caught. “You think he stole that test?”
“They found it in his locker. I don’t need to think anything.” He poked my side, eyes glittering with amusement. “Damn, you’ve got it bad for him.”
“I do not.” I swatted him away, but my face flushed. Akira grinned—she’d been shipping me and Dylan hard, though I’d made her promise not to intervene like I did for her when I’d cornered Randall at the public pool the last week of summer.
It had been a rare day outdoors to appease our parents, who thought we’d disintegrate or something if we didn’t get some vitamin D before school started. When Matty, Akira, and Zoey dashed off to see who could make the biggest cannonball, I spotted my chance and slinked into the lounge chair next to Randall. “So, when’re you gonna ask her out?”
“Ask who out where?” he’d said absentmindedly, watching TikTok on his phone.
“Kiki. On a date.”
That got his attention. The corner of his mouth flicked up. “Oh, come on. We’re having this conversation again?”
“I’ve been coerced,” I admitted, watching Matty plunge into the water butt-first.
Randall chortled, then froze, eyes widening. “Wait, coerced by who? Akira? Does she know … How … You told her I like her?”
“Nope.” I laughed. “Your secrets are always safe with me.”
“So … she wants me to ask her out?” He shook his head, baffled.
I shoved his arm playfully. “Why wouldn’t she?”
He hesitated a moment, clucking his tongue. “Because she knows I liked Matty.”
My smile dissolved. Randall had told us he was bi ages ago, and Matty—well, who didn’t like Matty? But Matty was straight, and the thought of Randall unrequitedly thirsting after him when they’d been best friends forever shattered my heart. I used to gently nudge Randall toward other people, but he’d always say, “Nah … he’s not Matty.” After a while, he’d just say, “Nah…,” glance at Akira, and go all quiet. It didn’t take a psychic to figure out his feelings had shifted.
“So?” I asked.
“Well, doesn’t that bother her?”
I screwed up my face. “Why should it? She was obsessed with Blake Thatcher literally all of ninth grade. But she’s over him now. Doesn’t matter who you liked once as long as you like each other now.”
Over Randall’s shoulder, I spotted Akira climbing out of the pool. For a moment, I could see the stress on her face, the self-conscious part of her that wanted to wrap herself in every towel within eyeshot. But then, seeing Randall’s back to her, she grinned mischievously, snuck up behind him, and shook out her dripping wet hair. “Augh! Watch the phone!” But he laughed, cheeks flushing, and tossed his phone to me before chasing her back to the pool, where she shoved him in before cannonballing next to him.
By the following week, they only came up for air to play MortalDusk.
Now Akira wanted to return the favor, but I wouldn’t let her. Besides, Dylan always threw me so much shade, I knew my little crush was one-sided. For whatever reason, he thought I was obnoxious. Maybe Zoey had poisoned his ear when I wasn’t looking.
I gripped my stomach and edged away from the picnic table. “Anyway, I’m heading home early. Not feeling so hot.”
Akira furrowed her brow in concern, and Randall scooted down the bench. “Eek, you catch whatever Zoey has?” Oh, God, he was so gullible; Zoey was totally playing hooky. But our friends were oblivious to the level of deception to which Zoey had stooped. I couldn’t tell them—I had no choice.
But Akira noticed my expression. “Dammit, will you spill the tea already?” She hated that Zoey and I weren’t getting along, but she hated not knowing why even more. She usually managed to wheedle out my secrets but couldn’t siphon this one from my skull.
“Kiki, chill. There is no tea,” I insisted for the zillionth time. Akira gave me a skeptical look, but I changed the subject. “Anyway, I don’t think I have anything contagious, but I want to nap it off.”
“We’re still coming over, right?” Akira asked. School let out in an hour and a half, and I had no clue what An0nym0us1 would make me do next. But Akira knew how stressed I was about making the team. If I canceled our plans entirely, she’d know something else was wrong.
“Sure … but maybe come over around five instead?”
“Works for me,” said Akira. She’d probably spend the extra time working on her re-creation of New York City in Minecraft. Last year she re-created the Magic Kingdom and recorded a tour, and the video went viral.
“I can’t come over anyway,” said Randall.
Akira pouted. “I thought you didn’t have any more shifts till next week.”
“My parents are in Burlington for some meeting, and Nessa’s babysitter’s booked, so I gotta do it.”
“Ew,” I said. “Good brothers are gross.”
He cackled.
“But you’re coming over later, right?” Akira gave him a meaningful look. Her parents were in California visiting her older sister at Stanford for the weekend. She’d begged them to let her stay home so she wouldn’t miss the tourney, promising to stay at my place. Judging by the box of condoms she’d dragged me with her to buy at CVS—not that I’d contributed an iota of knowledge throughout my giggle fits—there’d be no sleepover at my house tonight.