These Deadly Games(47)

Oh, God. What would happen if I got caught? Wasn’t grand theft auto a felony?

Well, at least it wasn’t murder.



* * *



By the time I reached Akira’s street, I was clutching a sharp stitch in my side, the taste of metal thick in my throat. I usually biked to Akira’s house, but if I’d be stealing a car, leaving my bike behind or stopping in the driveway to chuck it in the trunk wouldn’t exactly make for the smoothest getaway.

I knelt beside one of the straggly shrubberies lining Akira’s backyard to catch my breath, shivering, white puffs of condensation thick with each exhale. The neighboring yards were empty, and moonlight snuck fleeting glimpses between clouds in an otherwise starless sky. Hopefully, nobody would spot me in my all-black ensemble.

The garage was on the other side of the house. But even if I magically knew the code to open the garage door, I’d still need the car keys. Was hot-wiring a car still a thing? I’d only ever seen that happen in older movies.

No, I’d need to search Akira’s house for the keys. I always did love a good scavenger hunt. If only the prospect of losing wasn’t so fucking terrifying.

My stomach tied in knots as I peered up at the looming house. All the windows were dark except for a faint blue glow coming from what I thought was Akira’s upstairs bedroom, but that could have been anything—a night-light, the tiny lights on a router, or Akira scrolling through her phone in bed, unable to fall asleep. There was a crooked old tree next to another window, but this was no game; climbing a tree in real life would lead to broken bones, at the very least. Maybe one of the downstairs windows would be unlocked.

A sinking feeling spread through my chest as I thought of the last time I snuck into someone’s window.

Once I’d suspected Zoey was using an aimbot to cheat in MortalDusk, it needled my mind like an obsession. Watching her in the game wasn’t enough—I had to see the files on her laptop. I had to know for sure. So, with a clear view into her bedroom from mine, I spied on her like a total creeper, until one time last month she left her room with her laptop open, unsecured. Refusing to give myself a chance to chicken out, I climbed from my window and into hers. Growing up, we always kept our windows unlocked for each other, and apparently, she still did.

Adrenaline had tingled my fingers as I searched her hard drive. Thanks to some dark gamer forums, I’d learned cheaters would download an open-source file and modify the code to evade MortalDusk’s cheating detectors, playing cat and mouse with the developers who regularly patched the game. So I knew what files to search for. MortalDuskAimbb.exe. Nothing. MortalDuskHackAB.exe. Nada. MDaimbot.exe. Zilch. MDaimhack.exe.

A result.

I’d gaped at the file, then examined its properties. Installed two months ago. Last opened earlier tonight, when our team played together. I didn’t know what I expected to feel if I found proof—maybe vindication, or red-hot fury. Instead, I’d felt anguish. How could Zoey do this? It was so unfair. Did our friendship mean nothing to her? But suddenly, there she was, standing in her doorway. “What the hell are you doing?” Her face had twisted in fury, like I was the criminal.

If I wasn’t a criminal then, I certainly would be now. I’d been inside Akira’s house hundreds of times, but breaking and entering was still breaking and entering. Come to think of it, I vaguely remembered Akira once sliding a spare key from under one of the potted plants on the back stoop. Was it still there?

I glanced in either direction. The coast was clear, but that didn’t stop my pulse from racing a mile a minute as I sprinted across the yard. The windows in the back of the house were dark. So far so good. But as I climbed the back stairs, a floodlight illuminated the backyard. I gasped and froze like a deer in headlights, squinting against the sudden onslaught of brightness.

Any of the neighbors could spot me now. A dog yipped a couple of yards down, and my stomach seemed to lurch with each bark. I glanced back toward the shrubberies, where I could hide in relative safety. But I was running out of time. Biting my lip, I eyed the potted hydrangea next to the back door. I couldn’t wimp out now.

I tipped the pot to peek underneath, and a key glinted up at me. Oh, thank God. I wouldn’t have to climb any trees tonight.

I unlocked the door and slipped the key back under the pot.

But when I opened the door, an alarm blared loud enough to wake the dead.





CHAPTER 19


I scrambled into the mudroom, nearly tripping over the jumbled pile of boots next to the door. The alarm panel was backlit, making the space glow red. Exasperated, I clutched my forehead. I hadn’t even considered an alarm. But I couldn’t just bolt—the police would get an alert and head over, and I could forget about stealing any cars. I’d lose the game. What would happen to Caelyn if I lost?

An0nym0us1 would kill her, that’s what.

Okay. I had to think.

Usually, you had sixty seconds to enter the right code. We had the same alarm at home, but Mom always forgot to set it. Frantic, I racked my brain for a possible code and entered 0–3–1–5—Akira’s birthday, March 15—followed by the pound key. The panel gave a high-pitched chirp, and the shrill alarm continued.

“Dammit.” There was no way Akira was sleeping through this.

I tried Akira’s birth year. Pound key. More screeching. Then I tried her sister’s birth year. Pound key.