The Assassin Game (16 page)

Authors: Kirsty McKay

BOOK: The Assassin Game

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“Relax. Enjoy. You're safe.” He rubs his thumb up the inside of my wrist. The touch sends electricity up the inside of my arm. “You have the wristband after all.” He snags it with his thumb, and I pull away, embarrassed.

“Yeah, safe.” I throw my bag over my shoulder, unable to meet his eyes, and scuttle down the stairs and out of the library as fast as I can.

It's only when I'm back in my room, sitting at my desk, door locked, that I allow myself to breathe again.

Chapter 15

Monday morning, Tuesday morning, Wednesday morningâ¦and I'm breathing easy.

I love being safe. The little red snake around my wrist feels wonderful. Guild members eye it, some with envy. One of them is looking at it and mentally crossing me off their hit listâfor this week.

The Game is buzzing. I begin to live for screen time. Crypt is the place to be. Players are posting stuff constantlyâjokes, theories, even pictures. Analyzing clues. Having fun. And part of that fun is keeping in the loop while keeping your username private and not letting any non-Guild in on the secret.

Suddenly, no Internet is no big deal. My personal devices are connected to the school intranet and I can get on to Crypt whenever I like, as long as I'm in range of the Umfraville Wi-Fi. There's a mad increase of Guild members carrying around tablets at all times, chuckling at them in lessons, lounging around with open laptops in the quad, trying to pick up a signal in the pottery studio or in the toilets. The staff must think we've all become very industrious. We'll have to be careful.

But Vaughan is on point. By Tuesday afternoon, there's a post on Crypt from him.

Greetings, assassins. This is your webmaster.

Please click on the link below to download this simple yet highly addictive game onto your personal machines. Once downloaded, in the event of an emergency, this game can be toggled to hide any Game IMs or Crypt page you might be viewing.

Yours prophylactically, Vaughan

I have to smile. He's smart, that boy. I click on the link, and before long I'm playing a bright and obnoxious matching game called Kreepy Klowns.

The days pass with no Kills. Perhaps the Killer is too busy matching lines of clown faces and bantering online on Crypt. Perhaps one of us with immunity is next on their list, and they don't want to waver from the plan. Perhaps they're enjoying heightening the fun by lulling everyone into a false sense of security.

But then on Thursday, the fun starts to sour.

I don't see it coming at all; I've had a good day. Swimming has been replaced by a choice of yoga or hockey, and I'm all about the om. I have double art, and art history winds up the day with the batty but charming Miss Biddulph. I'm coming out of class, chatting to Whitney and laughing about which Kreepy Klowns level we're on, when Anvi comes running up to us, peroxide blond hair bouncing in her usual ponytail.

“Where have you been?” Her brown cheeks are flushed scarlet, dark eyes wild beneath the long fringe.

“Art history.” Whitney looks at her friend as if to say, er, duh.

“Not you. Her.” Anvi nods at me. “Have you seen it yet, on Crypt? Everybody's talking.”

My heart sinks. I have no idea what she's talking about, but I have a feeling I'm not going to like it.

“Spill the beans, you tease!” Whitney says.

Anvi doesn't answer, just grabs my arm painfully, looks from side to side and marches me around the corner of the main block of classrooms. She whips out a tablet.

“Should pick up the Wi-Fi here.” She swipes away Kreepy Klowns and Crypt pops up. “Look!” she urges me. I do. Nothing untoward, just a news feed of various postsâ¦ She scrolls down. There's a box with an arrow.

“Cool.” Whitney is looking over my shoulder. “Someone uploaded a video?”

Someone did. Anvi taps the arrow, and the video begins to play.

It's very dark. The picture is blurred. For a moment I think it's the caves, and I wonder why Anvi's showing it to me specifically. It's obviously something to do with the Game.

The cameraperson (female?) chuckles a little as the focus comes in and out. We're not in the cave, but that's water, isn't it? Thenâ¦stairs? Two blurred figures. Ah! It's the grandstand at the swimming pool.

Oh. Oh please, no.

This is nothing to do with the Game. But everything to do with me.

The camera zooms in, and in spite of the dim lighting, it's easy to see what the two figures are doing. Kissing. Arms wrapped around each other, one on top of the other. The one on top stops for a minute, throws back her head, and laughs. The one on the bottom laughs too.

Me and Daniel. Nope, nope, nopeâ¦

I'm vaguely aware of Whitney suppressing a gasp in my ear. Anvi's not so subtle. The tablet is shaking as she giggles. I snatch it.

“Hey!” Anvi grabs at it, trying to get it back, but I hug it to me.

“Who posted this?” I shout at her.

She shrugs, face passive. “Smee.”

Great. Smee, one of the users who I have no clue about. I have little sense of whether they're friend or foe, male or female, Killer or not. One thing I do know about them now, however: I know they're not Daniel.

“Smee better damn well delete this!” I shove the tablet back at Anvi, poking her in the chest with it. “And if you know who they are, make sure they get the message from me!”

“Don't get your big girl pants in a twist,” Anvi says. “Be thankful that this actually makes you interesting for a change. Momentarily.”

“Really, Anvi?” I step up to her. “You find this interesting? Interesting enough to post?” I push her shoulders. She's half my size but hard as nails, and she doesn't budge.

“Stop!” Whitney steps in. “You need to calm down, Cate. You know Anvi had nothing to do with this.” She looks at Anvi. “You didn't, did you?”

“No!” Anvi says, revolted.

“Great,” Whitney says, turning to me. “Rise above it. Talk to Vaughan or Alex and get it taken down. After all, it's seriously Off-Topic when it comes to the Game. Nobody's going to care about old gossip after a day or two.”

Nobody's going to care? Daniel will care. Daniel will care a lot.

“Fine.” I turn tail and head off, not sure which direction I'm heading in. It's trueâin the grand scheme of things, this will be five-minute news. I'll suffer for a few days, and there will be jokes forever, but it's nothing I can't handle. Daniel? A different matter. He will be devastated. He'll leave the Game for sure. He might leave school. He hates, hates this kind of thing. He cannot cope with it. Oh God, I hope he doesn't think I've got anything to do with it. Would he think that?

But instead of heading for his study or the music rooms, I run in a different direction.

When I burst in to the study, Vaughan is bent over his laptop, tapping away.

“Take it down.”

He holds a hand up, still typing with the other. “Just a sec.”

“Take it down!”

He looks at me, shocked. Hits Enter. His hands lower. “OK. What am I taking down?”

“The video, of course. Don't tell me you haven't seen it.”

“Yeeeah.” He nods, overly serious. “You and Daniel.”

“Of course me and Daniel!”

“Of course.” He tilts his head to one side. “I'm curious. Past or present?”

“What?” I say. “Past! Last-term party past!”

He nods understandingly. “One-off?”

“Look, not that it's any of your business.” I step inside the room and shut the door, becoming aware that a few people are lingering at the other end of the corridor, attracted by the drama. “But yes, it was a one-off. A random, stupid mistake on my part. Not to be repeated. And definitely not to be broadcast.”

“On your part.” Vaughan taps the top of his laptop with a restless finger. “But not a mistake as far as Daniel was concerned?”

“Just take it down,” I say. “Now.”

I turn and am about to flounce out when I see a white school mug of hot chocolate sitting on the table next to Vaughan. Untouched.

“Did you make that?” I point to it. “Did it come with a note?”

“What?”

I don't wait for a proper reply, just grab the handle, lean forward, open the window, and chuck the drink out into the grass.

“Oi!” Vaughan protests. “What are you doing?”

I stare at the bottom of the mug. No writing. Just an ordinary mug. An ordinary hot chocolate. Ex-hot chocolate.

I fling it down, and the mug breaks. I leave.

By the time I reach my own study and log in, the video is down. I'm relieved but also slightly aggrieved. I wanted to view it again, in the privacy of my own room, and process how bad it really was. And also to look in that laughing girl's eyes and try and see what she saw that night.

Daniel's not at high tea, nor in the library that night. I drop by his study and the music rooms, but I can't find him anywhere. Last thing before curfew, I find myself at the Loathsome Toad office. I see Marcia working in the brightly lit room. She's on her own. I twist the temperamental doorknob and look in.

“Knock knock.”

“Hi.” She doesn't look at me but continues to type.

I sigh. Walk in, sit down. Put my feet up on the desk so she knows I'm not going anywhere.

“Want a smoke?” she says, still not meeting my eye.

“No,” I say. “It's been ages since I've seen you. You sneak in to the dorm right before curfew. You avoid me at meals. You're never in the study.”

Marcia keeps typing, shakes her head. “I'm not sneaking, and I'm not avoiding. I'm busy.”

“Oh, I'm sure.” I stretch my arms out, faking a relaxation I do not feel. “But you know, I'd have thought you'd make the time to apologize for ditching me at the beach the other night. And maybe check I was OK the next day. I'd have also thought you'd come and seek me out when some idiot posted that video on Crypt.”

It's Marcia's turn to sigh. She leans back and snaps the lid of her laptop shut.

“I knew you were OK after the beach. I ran because I wanted you to run. I didn't want you to be caught.”

“What about Vaughan?”

She shrugs. “I felt scared for him, but what's he to me, compared to you? I wanted you out of there.”

My chest feels tight. “You should have known I wouldn't leave. I'm funny like that. I don't leave my friends when they're in trouble.”

She holds her hands up. “We all do what we think is best.”

I look at her, but now it's me who can't hold her gaze. I stare at the floor. “And you thought it was best not to tell me when that video was posted?” I tap my feet. “Posted first thing this morning, apparently. Don't tell me you didn't know about it.”

“I did.”

I look up at her, and she nods.

“But I thought it was more important to tell Daniel about it. You can deal with this; Danielâ¦may not.”

She has a point. “You could have IMed me at least.”

She stays silent. She's not one for saying sorry. She doesn't have the British way of overapologizing for everything, and sometimes that hurts.

“Did you find Daniel?” I sit up.

“Yes.”

“I lookedâ¦ I couldn't find him.” When she doesn't enlighten me further, I go on. “How was he?”

“How do you expect?” She pushes her chair away from the desk and turns around to look at me, face on. “He's broken. He hates to look a fool. He didn't even realize that anyone else knew, so it's even worse for him.”

Irritation rolls over me. “Most boys would be bragging and having a laugh about it.”

Marcia frowns at me. “Daniel is not most boys. Or didn't you know that?” She begins to pack up her stuff into her big tote bag. “It's worse because he actually wants you, of course, and he knows you don't want him.” She puts on her coat, clearly ready to get out of here and away from me as soon as possible.

I cringe at her words. But it's all true, of course. I change tack.

“Do you know who Smee is?”

She pauses. “Even if I did, it wouldn't be in the spirit of the Game to discuss it with you.”

“Oh, come on!” I stand up. “Posting make-out videos is hardly in the spirit of the Game, is it?”

She pushes her long hair out of her face. “Smee's female, I'm sure. I think I have some of the boys' usernames guessed, but Smee has a female voice, and I don't know who. Whitney, maybe?”

“Whitney was with me when Anvi showed me the video.” I think about it. “If she is Smee, she's a great actress.”

“Then Tesha? Or Emily?” She scratches her head. “To be honest with you, before this, I thought that Smee was you.”

I blink at her. “But you don't think that now, do you? Nobody thinks that I'd post this myself, do they?”

Marcia doesn't say anything but grabs her bag and swings it over her shoulder, heading for the door. I stride after her, reaching for her arm.

“You don't think I posted it, do you?”

She turns around. “I said before this happened I thought you might be Smee. I don't think so now, no. But do others think that?” She nods. “Yes. Yes they might.”

She turns and goes out of the door. I'm not going to run after her, partly because I'm finished with making a fool out of myself for one day and partly because I now feel weighted to the floor with the horror that the Guild members think I did this myself.

I move to a desk, to one of the PCs, turn it on, log in to Crypt. There's some chatter.

AllKillerNoFiller

Awwwwâ¦the skin flick is gone. Bring it back, Smee!

I_did_it

I think we've seen enough

AllKillerNoFiller

Is that you, Danny boy???

I_did_it

I'm not Daniel. That's why I think we've seen enough ;) You can bet D is staying far awaaaaay from here!

AllKillerNoFiller

No change there then

General Disarray