If anyone had told me yesterday that my life was about to turn into a low-budget conspiracy thriller with cafeteria pizza and unhinged faculty, I would've laughed and gone back to ignoring my math homework.
But now?
Now I was in a war zone. A very quiet one. Which was worse.
Because silence at Monroe High always meant something was about to explode.
"Okay," Jasmine said, snapping her gum and scrolling through her phone like we weren't in the middle of unraveling a murder list. "I checked Lucas Meyer's location tags from the last two months. He was obsessed with tagging everything. Locker room, bathroom, bus stop. Man even geo-tagged his foot once."
"His foot?"
"Don't ask. Anyway, all the posts stopped five days ago. That's exactly when he got called to the principal's office for 'disruptive behavior.'"
"Disruptive like prank-level, or disruptive like arson-level?"
Jasmine raised an eyebrow. "It's Lucas. Probably both."
She wasn't wrong.
I slid the photo of the hit list closer on the table between us. We were in the back of the library, hidden behind a row of encyclopedias no one had touched since 2003.
"Okay," I said, trying to think like someone smarter than me—someone who wasn't failing math and had never gotten caught sneaking vodka into a water bottle for the Winter Dance. "Let's say this list really is connected to student disappearances. That means Donahue knows. Or she's being used. Or... she's the one doing it."
"Don't say it like that," Jasmine whispered, glancing around. "She's probably got listening devices planted in the gum under the desks."
"I mean... she would."
We stared at each other for a second too long, both of us quietly panicking and pretending not to.
"Okay," she said finally. "So what do we do next?"
"We find Sophia Trinh."
"She hasn't been seen in days."
"Exactly. We find out where she went, who saw her last, and why her last Instagram post was at school with a suspiciously vague caption about clones."
Jasmine leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Ava."
"What?"
"I'm just saying... we might be in a literal secret experiment."
"Jesus, Jas."
"Or we're next."
"…Fair."
It wasn't until fourth period that the first really weird thing happened.
I was walking to class, blending in like a normal student with a normal amount of enemies, when someone grabbed my backpack and yanked me sideways into the janitor's closet.
I didn't scream. Mostly because I was too surprised. Also because my brain short-circuited.
And then I was face-to-face with him.
"Are you insane?" I hissed, yanking my arm away.
Mason Knight.
Resident hall monitor. Top of the class. Vice president of the student council. Basically an overachieving narc with a jawline that belonged in a teen drama and a superiority complex that could crush steel.
"I should ask you that," he snapped, shutting the door behind us and flicking on the single, flickering lightbulb. "You were in Donahue's office yesterday."
"And you were following me?"
"I saw you on the cameras."
"You check cameras now? What are you, Batman?"
Mason didn't smile. He never smiled.
"You weren't supposed to see that list," he said, voice low.
My blood went cold.
"You know about the list?"
"I know more than you think."
"Like why I'm number three?"
He stared at me for a second, like he was debating whether to tell me the truth or throw me in a locker.
Then he pulled something from his hoodie.
A copy of the same list.
Same red ink. Same names. Same order.
Except this one had an extra column.
With dates.
I scanned it quickly. Lucas Meyer — 10/14. Sophia Trinh — 10/17. Ava Monroe — 10/19.
That was... today.
I blinked. "What's the date?"
"Today's the 19th," he said grimly.
My stomach twisted.
"Great," I muttered. "So I'm supposed to disappear today. That's just—fun. That's really fun. I love that for me."
"Calm down," Mason said.
"Calm down?! I'm third on a list of disappearing students, and you want me to calm down?!"
He grabbed my arm again, not gently. "Listen. They won't come for you in public. That's why I pulled you in here."
"Well gee, thanks for kidnapping me to keep me safe."
"I'm trying to help you, Monroe."
I blinked. "Why?"
He hesitated. And for the first time since we'd met, his face shifted. Just slightly. Something cracked in the usual perfect mask he wore.
"Because I was supposed to be number three."
I stared at him. "Excuse me?"
"I was on the original list," he said, voice tight. "It got changed. You replaced me."
"Why?"
"I don't know. Maybe because I started cooperating. Maybe because I'm not as visible. But the point is—they changed the order. They're watching you now. And if you keep digging, they'll accelerate the timeline."
I took a step back. "So you're working for them?"
"I'm working around them."
"Wow, that's not vague at all. Thanks for the clarity."
"Ava," he said, voice lowering, "you need to get off that list. Today."
"Well, no shit, Sherlock."
"I'm serious."
"And what do you suggest I do? Pretend to be sick? Disappear on purpose? Or maybe dye my hair and move to Vermont?"
He hesitated.
I froze. "Oh my god. That's the plan, isn't it?"
Mason didn't answer.
Instead, he handed me a key.
Small. Brass. Cold in my palm.
"What's this?"
"Locker 314. West wing. It's off-limits after third period, but if you go during lunch, no one will see you."
"And what's in it?"
"Something you're going to need if you want to survive the day."
"Cool," I said flatly. "Love a cryptic scavenger hunt while I'm being stalked."
He opened the door again, checking both sides before stepping out. "Go now. Before they notice you're missing."
And just like that, he vanished down the hall.
I stared at the key.
Then shoved it in my pocket and bolted.
Lunch was chaos, as usual. Half the cafeteria was yelling over stolen fries and half the teachers had given up pretending they were in control.
Jasmine met me by the doors, her expression tight. "Where have you been? I tried texting you like, twenty times."
"I was kidnapped by Mason Knight."
She blinked. "Okay, hold up—kidnapped or fake kidnapped?"
"Janitor closet."
"Oh my god, did he try to—"
"Jasmine, no. Just listen."
I told her everything. About the second copy of the list. About the date. About the key. About the locker in the west wing.
She listened in total silence, only chewing her lip the way she does when she's either extremely stressed or planning a felony.
Finally, she said, "Let's go open that locker."
We had exactly six minutes before the security guards did their daily patrol.
The west wing was dim and smelled like mold and forgotten textbooks. The lockers there were mostly unused, except for a few that teachers kept random junk in. And apparently, Locker 314.
I stuck the key in.
It turned with a heavy click.
And inside—
A manila envelope.
No name. No label.
I grabbed it and slammed the door shut.
"Go," I whispered. "Now."
We ran.
Back in the library, Jasmine ripped the envelope open while I kept watch.
Inside: three things.
A map of the school. Detailed. With certain rooms circled in red.
A USB drive.
A photograph.
I picked it up.
It was blurry. Grainy. Looked like security footage.
But it clearly showed Sophia Trinh being escorted through a hallway by two men in suits. One of them was holding a syringe.
Jasmine's face turned pale. "That's… that's not school security."
"Nope."
I plugged the USB into my laptop.
One folder. Titled: PHASE 3 - ACTIVE FILES.
Password protected.
Of course it was.
"I can crack it," Jasmine said, already typing. "Give me fifteen minutes."
I looked at the photo again.
Something dark twisted in my chest.
This wasn't just about detention anymore.
This was about survival.
And I was running out of time.