These Deadly Games(7)

She must’ve known about my mushy insides.

It was like everything she did, she did to beat me.

I shook away the thought and focused on the lesson, taking thorough notes to distract my brain from replaying over and over the image of Caelyn slamming the door in my face, or Zoey’s smug look warping her sharp features, or Fishman dancing over my dead avatar. It was like anxiety had permeated every neuron in my brain.

The sound of Dylan tick-a-tick typing on his keyboard behind me wasn’t helping. Most people took notes on their school-provided Chromebooks, but I preferred handwriting my notes. Otherwise I’d end up playing the unblocked games I’d downloaded and miss the entire lesson. There’s always a way to get past the school’s IT team.

And the temptation was too real.

After a few minutes, someone’s phone buzzed nearby. I glanced around, but nobody moved to check theirs. Was it mine? I thought I’d silenced it. We were allowed to keep our phones with us as long as we kept them silenced and tucked away during class. Mr. Richardson was staring at his presentation, waiting for some animation to load. A quick peek wouldn’t kill anyone. I dug my cell from the front compartment of my backpack and surreptitiously dropped it onto my lap.

Sure enough, there was a notification on my screen. An0nym0us1 sent you a message. Huh. The notification showed the app’s logo—a silver serpent wrapped around a red microphone. I didn’t recognize it. Curious, I tapped the notification and unlocked my phone.

A message flashed across my screen.

React to this, and she dies. Show this to anyone, and she dies.



I scrunched my brow. Before I could question it, a video message started playing. The sound was off, but the visual alone made my heart lurch into my throat so fast I thought I might choke.

The video showed Caelyn gagged and bound to a chair, struggling against the restraints.

No. That couldn’t be her. It couldn’t be.

The camera panned closer. Her auburn curls were no longer braided, but hung loose around her face, shrouding her in shadow. Her thick glasses were slightly askew. It was unmistakably my baby sister.

My chair made a loud screech as I reflexively scooted back and hit Dylan’s desk, and a cry threatened to escape from my lips. React to this, and she dies. I just reacted, didn’t I? What did that mean? What the hell did that mean?

“A problem, Crystal?” Mr. Richardson asked. Everyone in class had turned to stare at me again. Matty gave me a questioning look.

“I, uh—” My heart ricocheted off my ribs like a rabid animal in a cage as panic flooded my veins. I wanted to show Matty the video. I wanted him to assure me it wasn’t real. But if it was, I couldn’t show him. What should I do? What the hell should I do? I gripped my stomach. “Bathroom?”

Lucia Ramirez giggled in the front row.

“Food poisoning isn’t funny!” I yelled without thinking. Her smile collapsed.

Mr. Richardson raised his eyebrows. “Go, take the hall pass. And then, erm, go to the nurse’s office, if you need to.”

I didn’t need to make a show of swallowing hard—the lemon loaf Akira had brought me from Starbucks was threatening to escape, food poisoning or not. “Thanks.”

I grabbed my backpack, barreled down the aisle, and tripped on the front leg of Lucia’s desk. I caught myself before biting it. A few more people laughed, and my cheeks caught fire as I grabbed the hall pass and scrammed.

Out in the hall, I darted into an alcove between lockers leading to a supply closet, turned up the volume just enough for me to hear it, and watched the video again. It replayed the same fifteen-second loop over and over. Caelyn couldn’t say anything with the gag in her mouth, but she let out these garbled sobbing noises that tore my soul in half. I couldn’t make out where Caelyn was—the room was dark, the only light source seemingly coming from the camera itself. This couldn’t be real. This absolutely could not be real.

Suddenly, the video disappeared, and a message replaced it, red text on a stark white screen.

Let’s play a game.



A game? What game? There was no text box in which to type a reply. I glanced around, but the hall was deserted.

You have 24 hours to win. If you break my rules, she dies. If you call the police, she dies. If you tell your parents or anyone else, she dies. If you don’t respond to my messages within a minute, she dies. If you lose or forfeit, she dies.



I clasped my mouth as my throat gurgled with a suppressed scream.

Are you ready?



Was I ready? What the actual fuck?

I leaned back against the closet door, trying to catch my breath. Breathe. Breathe. I had to breathe. I had to think.

First of all, this couldn’t possibly be real. It had to be some sort of prank. Yes, that was it. An extremely well-executed prank. I glanced at my Fitbit, which Mom got for free at the hospital. It was just past 1:00 p.m. Frost Valley was almost a two-hour drive from here, so Caelyn would’ve arrived hours ago. Maybe she was getting back at me for this morning. Yes, that made sense. She got one of her friends to tie her up and record this …

Nope, said a voice in the back of my mind. She’d never do this. But what about that bully of hers, Tessa? Caelyn was specifically afraid of her—afraid she was going to pull some prank on her. Yes, that had to be it!

I tapped the text box that appeared and typed, Haha, very funny, Tessa.