Free Shot Through the Heart by Niki Burnham

smiles—does not mean I want to go out with her. Of course, knowing I should tell her and actually forming the words are two entirely different things.
     
    I wasn’t lying to Peyton yesterday when I said I was chicken. However, I may have failed to convey the scope of my chicken tendencies.
     
    “Sorry if I interrupted you yesterday,” she says. At my quizzical look she explains, “When I sent you that text and you had Josh and Peyton over. I think that’s so sweet of you to give her your chemistry notes. You’re the most thoughtful person, Connor. Josh is lucky to have you as a friend.”
     
    Ah, crap.
     
    I stop walking and turn to face Molly. I wish I could communicate via osmosis that I enjoy being her friend, but that’s it. Her friend . My stomach pitches as she looks at me in anticipation. I dread seeing disappointment on her face when I say the words aloud.
     
    The hallway crowd is starting to thin. Still, I pull her off to the side. Drew might’ve embarrassed her in front of everyone, but I’d rather be discreet. “Look, about yesterday, I need to talk to you.”
     
    I almost tell her that Josh wasn’t at my house when Peyton picked up the notebook, then decide I don’t want to take the conversation down that road. I don’t want Molly—or anyone else—to suspect what’s up with me and Peyton. If anything’s actually up, because even I don’t know that.
     
    If what happened yesterday afternoon with Peyton isn’t a one time thing, I don’t want Molly to assume I’m pulling a Drew on her, leading her on and then ditching her for another girl.
     
    “Did Peyton tell you what I told her?” Molly looks around as she says this, as if afraid someone will overhear.
     
    “Um—” A hard lump forms in my throat at the sound of Peyton’s name coming from Molly’s lips. The two of them talked about me? “No. I don’t think so.”
     
    “Well, I told her to tell Josh, but I figured she’d talk to you, too, especially since the three of you were at your house yesterday.” Molly’s practically vibrating with excitement. She leans forward, her mouth only inches from my shoulder as she whispers, “Everyone knows you guys were assigned Drew and Grayson in Senior Assassin. Right?”
     
    This is about Senior Assassin? After a second’s pause, I tell her, “I will neither confirm nor deny.”
     
    I can’t imagine where this is leading. The entire senior class received a warning e-mail from Jayne Dover this morning instructing us not to post any more videos of Senior Assassin hits, stating that doing so from now on will result in automatic elimination from the tournament. Everyone knows it’s in direct response to the anonymously posted video of Grayson standing in his front driveway, eyes growing wider and wider as a bright orange water balloon comes hurtling at him, then soaks him completely when he turns and ducks a second too late.
     
    Even if the new rule states that people will be automatically eliminated from now on , I’m not about to verify to the school at large—let alone to Molly, who’s Jayne’s best friend—that the Grayson video came from Josh.
     
    “You don’t need to confirm it. Everyone’s talking about how Josh got Grayson. I mean, how cool is it that you see the broken balloon stuck to the back of Grayson’s shirt?” She glances behind us to see who’s walking nearby, then drops her voice to add, “You know that with Josh posting that video, Drew and Grayson are dying to prove themselves by winning it all. Drew’s eliminated both his targets already, so they’re into the next round as long as Drew stays dry. It would also mean that you and Josh are out.”
     
    Careful not to say anything to implicate myself, I keep my expression neutral. “What is it that Peyton was supposed to tell me?”
     
    “That if I can help you and Josh in any way, I will.”
     
    Help us? “What do you mean?”
     
    A wicked light fills her eyes. “I mean that I can act like