These Deadly Games(67)

“But I will, this time. I promise.” Then he shook his head. “What do you mean, ‘it’s too late’?”

“I … I’ve been collecting evidence.” I whipped out my phone, navigated to a folder in my photo gallery, and showed him one of the pics of Mom’s bruises. “I have photos. Recordings. Of what you’ve been doing to Mom. Of your fights.”

His eyes widened, and he stepped closer. “Let me see—”

“No!” I leaped back again in case he wanted to chuck my phone over the ridge or something. “I have it all saved on my computer, and on Dropbox. And if you don’t leave Mom, I’ll show all of it to the police.”

There it was. Me, blackmailing my own father. I thought he’d spit with rage. But instead he stared with this dazed, defeated look. Like this was something he never expected, and the shock was too much.

He left a week later. I’d won. It was the worst game I’d ever played.

Until now.

I took my phone from my back pocket, about to snap a pic of the overlook point for Instagram, when I noticed a girl with a short black ponytail, black leggings, and a formfitting purple coat sitting cross-legged on the boulder, admiring the view. Was that— “Kiki?”





CHAPTER 29


Akira twisted to look at me. It was her! Her eyes were red and puffy like she’d been crying, but she was here. Safe. Alive. She scrambled to her feet. “Well, halle-freakin’-lujah.” Before I could ask what she meant, her face scrunched up, and she practically barreled into me. We clung to each other for a long while, her having no clue I hugged her back so hard from sheer, overwhelming relief. “I still can’t believe…” She trailed off.

“I know.” Matty’s face flashed through my mind. Gone forever.

As she sobbed softly, my relief turned to wariness. What was she doing here? This couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Sorry.” Akira finally pulled away and wiped at my shoulder. “I got snot all over your jacket.” The last word came out garbled as a fresh wave of tears consumed her.

“It’s fine. Sorry you didn’t get to have your sex romp with Randall,” I said, trying to make her laugh. It worked.

“Ugh, I know.” She used her sleeve to mop her face. “Instead I vommed all over him.”

“Eh, it mostly landed on you. I don’t think he even noticed, anyway…” Due to the fact that he’d basically gone into zombie mode.

“How is he now?” She rubbed her hands together, her fuzzy purple gloves with cutoff fingertips clearly not warm enough. “He seemed okay on FaceTime earlier—thank God his dad’s okay, right?—but … how was he really? Fuck you, by the way. I totally would’ve gone with you to the hospital.” Her teeth chattered, making each rushed word seem to vibrate. I was too confused to appreciate the good news about Randall’s dad.

“I … I haven’t gone to the hospital. I haven’t seen him yet.”

Akira wrinkled her nose. “Dude, why’d you make me wait here for an hour, then? It’s freezing—I was about to give up.”

My spine prickled. “I don’t…” I swallowed hard. She’d expected to meet me here. Same as Jeremy yesterday.

“You literally said you were just at the hospital.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Um, yes, you did.” She tapped on her phone and showed me a text. From me.

Sorry I’m late. Dropped by the hospital super quick to check on Randall. Be there in a few!



My fingers went numb. I never sent that.

Akira went on, “You’re the one who wanted to go for a hike. You wanted to tell me something important, remember? Why couldn’t you tell me, like, in an indoor venue?”

“I … uh…” My mind reeled. An0nym0us1 had to be behind this. But knowing didn’t make it any less disorienting. “Did that text come from my number?”

“Obvi.”

“Can I see?”

“See what?”

“The text thread.”

Akira squinched her face again but showed me the screen. My name was at the top. I tapped it, pulling up the contact. It was me. My number. An0nym0us1 was sending texts as me. This wasn’t just spoofing.

Wait …

“What’s wrong?” Akira asked.

On my own phone, I opened the email app and scrolled to the sent folder. My blood ran cold. There were messages I didn’t recognize—one to Fishman, one to the school principal. Holy hell. Mr. Chen thought I was the one who ratted out Dylan. I remembered the way he nodded at me in the hall. Shiiiiit.

“What is it?” Akira prodded.

“Listen,” I whispered. “I know this is going to sound batshit, but I didn’t send that text. I never asked you to come here.”

“But, Crys … you called me.” She spoke slow and loudly, like she was talking to a petulant three-year-old. “You literally begged me to meet you here.”

Her words coiled around my lungs, suffocating me. I didn’t talk to Akira this morning. I shook my head feebly. “No, I didn’t.”

Akira puckered her lips for a moment, considering me. Then she laughed. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you? Like, to make me feel better?” She tilted her head. “It’s not really funny, though—”