These Deadly Games(21)
“Don’t call me babe.” She grimaced and stood, grabbing her jacket. “Talk about catfishing someone. You know what? I don’t date liars.” She paused in front of Matty and said, “Thanks for clueing me in, cutie,” then stalked outside.
“Fuckturnip,” said Matty, watching Jeremy chase after her, though it was clearly a lost cause. “Next time I try to meet a pro, please punch me in the face.”
* * *
I hadn’t seen our nemesis since, but now here he was in the flesh, standing between me and the game that might get my sister killed.
“Crystal Donovan,” Jeremy said. “It seems we have a traitor in our midst.”
Conflicted, I glanced back at the trail. I only had four minutes to get to that gazebo. I imagined some sadist sinking his knife into Caelyn if I was late. I imagined the wax paper’s edges browning and curling over the tray, wax oozing, paper flaking off, mingling with the grease below, catching aflame.
But I had to know what in the actual hell Jeremy was doing here. The day after we’d accidentally sabotaged his date, his team ambushed us in MortalDusk. Zoey assured us it was im possible to stalk us from map to map without a hack. It had to be a coincidence. After all, we were on a regional server, and there was some skill-based matchmaking going on—we were pretty much at Fishman’s level now. But then Akira found a plug-in that listed who was on your map, somehow without violating MortalDusk’s terms of service. Soon it was clear: Fishman was out for pixelated blood. Whenever he landed on our map, he was hell-bent on taking us down in front of his audience of millions. The joke was on him, though—we fought back hard, and soon the MortalDusk community was picking sides, giving us a massive jump in subscribers. After losing the top leaderboard position, he must’ve felt humiliated; I bet he absolutely loathed us. Was he stalking us IRL now, too?
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Who’s a traitor?”
He grinned. “Who do you think? You are.” I cringed, confused. Jeremy stepped closer, peering at me. “Huh. Your eyes really are as green as they are on Instagram.” What? I could have sworn my profile was set to private.
“They’re hazel. And ew, are you hitting on me?” I backed away. “How old are you? Like, twenty-five?”
“Twenty-one. And no, I’m not. Aren’t people allowed to make observations anymore?” He snorted. “Girls always use filters and shit to make their eyes look like that.” He waggled his fingers in front of his own eyes.
“Why were you stalking my Insta, anyway?” I rarely posted selfies, and when I did, I was always mid-laugh or sticking my tongue out. You don’t have to worry about lighting or looking pretty if you’re goofing off. Caelyn was more self-conscious, so we smiled normally for our pics together, though I’d often sneak in bunny ears.
Jeremy smirked. “I had to see what kind of person would turn against her friends like that.” My stomach dropped. “So two-fifty K’s your number, huh?”
I scrambled to make sense of this. The solo and team prizes at the tourney were $250,000 each. Was he insinuating I’d framed Dylan for stealing that exam … for what? To take him out of the running? “How’d you even know about that?”
He scrunched his brow. “You’re the one who made the first move, sweetheart.”
I shook my head, completely lost. Three minutes left.
“So what’d you have in mind?” he asked. “You want me to help you pick them off?”
My mouth dropped open. “Pick them off?”
“Well, yeah. But you’re gonna have to sell me on this. I mean, if I agree to meet you somewhere—say, Calamity Castle—how do I know your whole crew won’t be waiting—”
“Hang on. Are you talking about forming an alliance at the tourney?” Matty and Randall would be Fishman’s biggest threats in the solo competition. Aligning with me to take them down would boost Fishman’s chances for sure. But why’d he think I initiated this conversation?
“No shit.” He threw up his hands. “Listen, if you’re getting cold feet, fine. But don’t pretend like you have no clue what the fuck I’m talking about. Don’t waste my time like that.”
“I have no clue! How’d you even know I was going to be here?” Only one person in the world knew I was going to be in this parking lot right now.
An0nym0us1.
My breath hitched, and I skittered back a few steps. No way. I glanced at Jeremy’s car—it didn’t look like anyone was in the back seat. What about the trunk?
“What the hell do you mean?” asked Jeremy, frustrated—whether genuine or good acting, I couldn’t tell. “You emailed me. You told me to meet you here.”
Unease prickled my skin. “No, I didn’t.”
“Seriously? Oh, man. You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Even if Jeremy wasn’t An0nym0us1, they had to be pulling the strings, just like when Mr. Chen knew to check Dylan’s locker for the answer key. Maybe they’d phished my email address or something.
But why involve Fishman?
I glanced at the trail again, remembering An0nym0us1’s memory game. Jeremy had to be another distraction. Anyone who paid attention to the MortalDusk streaming community would know about our rivalry. He was the perfect obstacle to keep me from getting to the gazebo in time. To keep me out of my house even longer, giving the wax paper more time to burn.