Page 143 of Tag

My pulse jumped. “Cici…” I angled the phone for her to see the text. Her steps faltered beside me.

“Where the hell are they watching from?”

Another buzz.

1031

Why are you just standing there?

We both slowly looked around.

“It’s got to be someone up high. They could be in any one of the other academic wings that have a clear view of where we are.”

She bobbed her head once in agreement. “Let’s keep moving.”

We weren’t running yet, but our steps came faster. Once we made it outside, the sunlight felt too bright for how I felt. The rumble of drums and the brassy swell of the marching band carried from wherever they were practicing. We cut across the grass, taking the fastest route possible toward The Pit. When it came into view, I didn’t slow.

“Be right there,” I called to Roxxi, not sparing a glance toward the field’s edge, where I could feel stares like invisible hands at my back.

I tugged Ari’s tablet bag from my satchel and passed it to Cloe. “Can you hold onto this?”

She took it without hesitation, eyes scanning my face. “Do you want me to walk you the rest of the way?”

I hesitated before shaking my head. “Not today.”

Her frown was slight, but I caught it. “Go ahead. I’ll watch from back here and fake text until you’re inside. We don’t want to let these parasites think they rattled us.”

I flashed a quick smile and kept walking. Dennis, our ever-dedicated mascot, was trudging toward the men’s locker room in full crow regalia: black feathers, oversized beak, and all. He was probably coming from band coordination, preparing whatever routine the Crow would be doing at the next game. I lifted a hand in greeting as I passed.

He paused and stared from behind the giant crow head. Not exactly unusual. Dennis was quirky. I didn’t mean that in a bad way, but he was the last person I expected to choose mascot duty while excelling in forensic anthropology. I reached the locker room and slipped inside. I went straight to my locker, dropping my bag onto the bench with a dull thud. I spun my combination lock and pulled the door open—then froze.

A slip of cream-colored paper, slightly crinkled, was taped to the inside. It was just like the ones Cloe and at least a dozen others received. I had wondered if I would be getting another since one apparently wasn’t enough. I held the locker door and read it.

You aren’t just another player.

You’re the prize.

The one we all want to catch.

So lock your doors.

Cling to the people who swear they’ll protect you.

Scream if it makes you feel better.

It won’t change a thing.

We’re going to see how pretty you bleed.

XOXO—your favorite stalker.

I stood there in the silence, the words crawling like static across my skin. I closed my eyes and counted as I breathed. This was far less invasive than the Polaroid had been. Stuffing creepy notes in lockers and getting around the combination lock? That was a high school-level prank at most. I exhaled, opened my eyes, and snatched the note off with more force than necessary, stuffing it into my cheer bag.

Out of sight.

Out of mind.

I could deal with it later. I didn’t have time or the mental bandwidth for any breakdowns, and these assholes didn’t deserve the pleasure of one. I hurried through changing into my practice uniform, tugging off my clothes and slipping into the familiar black-and-silver cheer gear, opting for shorts instead of the skirt tonight. My boots were the last to go, exchanged with my dependable cheer shoes with the soles broken in from a hundred routines. Once I was dressed, I dug through my bag again, rummaging for the hair tie I was sure I’d packed this morning.

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