These Deadly Games(75)

“Well, yeah, but I wouldn’t kill anyone over it. I mean, come on, I can code like a beast. I bet I could get a dozen offers from tech start-ups without ever setting foot on a college campus.”

Panic permeated my veins. If Zoey wasn’t An0nym0us1 … they were still out there. It could be anyone. No. No. It had to be Zoey. I had no way to get in touch with An0nym0us1. No way to reach my sister. No way to get more clues. This was the last thread. If it unspooled, I’d have nothing.

“But you said you needed that money,” I said, clinging to my logic. “You said that’s why you cheated.”

She cringed, hesitating. “I … Yeah, the money would help, but…” Her lower lip trembled. “I thought you’d throw me off the team if you knew the real reason.”

“What was the real reason?”

“Oh, please,” Zoey spat. “Like you even actually care. You didn’t care then, and you don’t care now. You’ll just twist it around for whatever fucked-up narrative you’re trying to spin here. All you care about is your spot at the tourney. Playing games is all that’s ever mattered to you.” My stomach tied in knots. Her words echoed Caelyn’s accusation yesterday morning. All you can think about is your stupid video game … Do you even care about anything in the real world? What if they were both right? She went on, “This isn’t the first time you hurt someone over a game. My God, Crystal, what have you done—”

“That is not fair. What happened to Brady was an accident.”

“But it never would’ve happened if you didn’t make us play that stupid game.”

“It never would’ve happened if you didn’t make such a stink about being Brady’s partner in that board game.”

“You always got to be partners with Kiki. That wasn’t fair.”

Regret stabbed my heart at that. Akira and I had always clicked like two L-block Tetris pieces, while Zoey was more like a Z-block; she took some finagling to fit. And once we got older, it was easier for Akira and me to confide in each other about the tough stuff—her with her eating disorder, me with my panic attacks. There was no shame between us. Afraid to burden Zoey—afraid she wouldn’t understand—we’d left her out of those conversations. Still, I skirted around her comment. “Dammit, we could throw accusations back and forth forever. It was both of our faults, and it was neither of our faults. It was an accident. A terrible accident.”

“Then why couldn’t we just tell the truth? Why’d you make us lie?”

“I didn’t make anyone do anything. We were all scared we’d get in trouble—you especially! I was trying to protect you.” I wiped a hand down my face. “If you wanted to tell the truth so badly, why didn’t you?”

Her expression twisted, pained. “You all insisted we keep it a secret. And I thought … if I told … or if I pushed you to tell … that you … you…” She crossed her arms, her chin quivering.

“That I’d what?”

“That you’d all turn against me!” she cried. A tear streaked down her cheek, and she flicked it away like she was mad she’d let it slip. “I thought I’d wind up all alone … just like him.”

Oh my God. Suddenly, it all made sense. Everything Zoey had done was out of fear of being ostracized. She’d already been sensitive to how Akira and I were extra close, but something in her must’ve broken after what happened to Brady. That was the real reason she’d cheated. For years, the five of us clung together, almost like we’d built a wall around ourselves to shield us from our guilt—and to hold our secret captive. The tourney was the first time we’d need to intentionally exclude one of us. And she was afraid she would be the one left out. It had nothing to do with the prize money. And then she was so scared to be booted from our team, she blackmailed me. All because she was terri fied to be abandoned, just like him. She was dealing with some serious PTSD, and I’d had no idea.

But that meant she’d never kill us off. Nothing would make her more alone.

So who the hell was making me play this terrible game?

“Game? What game?” Zoey asked, making me realize I’d asked the question aloud. “God, why does everything have to be a game with you?”

“No, you don’t understand. If it’s not you…” Who could it be? I clutched my throat—I couldn’t breathe in this stuffy basement. I couldn’t think. I had to go. I had to keep searching. Maybe Lance Burdly was a legitimate clue after all—one last dangling thread. I started for the stairs, but Zoey grabbed my bad wrist and tugged me back, making me cry out in pain.

“No!” she said. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell happened to Kiki. What did you mean about her mom’s car?”

I shook my head. “That’s not what killed her—” Cringing, I clapped a hand over my lips. Akira couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t be.

Zoey gasped. “What the fuck?”

“No, you don’t understand…” Oh, God. I didn’t have time for this. “We were at the lookout point on Mount Morgan this morning, and, well, at one point, we were wrestling over my phone, and she fell.” Zoey’s eyes were amber saucers, her mouth agape. “I … I don’t know, maybe she survived the fall. But it was an accident, I swear it.”