Blue Ticks

Two: The Burner App

The burner app glowed softly in the dark of my bedroom, casting a blue light across my face.

I was curled up on my bed with my laptop balanced on my knees and headphones in, pretending to edit yearbook photos while I'm actually refreshing the Blue Tick dashboard.

The interface was simple, something Maya had helped me build last summer without ever knowing what it was really for. Clean black background and anonymous usernames only. End-to-end encrypted messages that deleted themselves after delivery confirmation.

Blue Tick – Secure Messenger

Current Balance: $340

Pending Requests: 3

I tapped the first one.

Request #48

Sender: QueenBee22

Target: Marcus Hale (Locker 214)

Message: “I know what you did after the away game in Riverton. Fix it or everyone finds out.”

Payment: $50 (already received)

Status: Delivered ✅

Marcus would be sweating right now. Good. He deserved it after what I’d heard through the rumor mill.

I approved the next request and leaned back against my pillows. This was the part I was good at, being the shadow. No face or voice. Just the words people were too scared to say themselves. And in return, I got enough money to keep the electricity on and Mom’s medication coming.

A new notification pinged.

New Request – $100

Sender: IceQueen17

Target: Kai Rivera

Message: “Stop pretending last Friday meant nothing. I still feel your hands on me after the game. Meet me behind the arena tonight.”

Special Instructions: Deliver via locker before first period. Use blue paper if possible.

My thumb hovered over the Accept button.

Of course it was about Kai again. Two requests in less than twenty-four hours. The universe was clearly trying to test me.

I clicked Accept before I could overthink it. One hundred dollars was one hundred dollars. Mom’s next appointment was in two weeks, and the bills weren’t going to pay themselves.

I slipped out of bed and went to my desk, pulling out a sheet of thick blue stationery I kept specifically for high-paying clients. My handwriting was neat and anonymous, slanted just enough to look feminine but not identifiable. I wrote the message exactly as requested, folded it carefully, and sealed it with a tiny silver sticker I’d bought in bulk.

The clock read 5:47 a.m. Still early enough to beat the morning rush.

I dressed quickly, wore a black hoodie, dark jeans, my camera bag as always. Leo was still asleep in the next room, and Mom’s door was closed. I left a note on the kitchen counter saying I was going in early for a photography club, then snuck out the back door.

The ride to school through the cold morning air helped clear my head. By the time I reached the senior locker section, the halls were mostly empty except for a few early athletes and janitors.

Kai’s locker was 387. I’d memorized it weeks ago while pretending to photograph the hallway for the yearbook. Pathetic, I know.

I moved fast. Spin the combination (I’d watched him open it once), slide the blue note on top of his textbooks, and close the door. Done.

As I turned to leave, footsteps echoed from around the corner.

I froze.

Kai appeared at the end of the hallway, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, hair still damp from an early morning workout. He wore a gray Ridgeview Hockey hoodie that stretched across his chest and shoulders in a way that should be illegal before 7 a.m.

Our eyes met.

For a second, neither of us moved. Then his gaze flicked to his locker and back to me. Something unreadable crossed his face was it curiosity? Suspicion? Or was I just projecting?

“You’re here early,” he said, voice low and a little rough.

I shrugged, adjusting the strap of my camera bag. “Yearbook stuff. You know how it is.”

He took a step closer. “Lila, right?”

My name in his mouth did stupid things to my pulse. I nodded.

“Yeah. Kai Rivera. Hockey god. Everyone knows you.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “Not a fan?”

“I don’t do sports.” Liar. I’ve photographed every home game this season.

He studied me for another beat, like he was trying to figure something out. Then he reached past me to open his locker.

The blue note was right there on top.

I held my breath as he picked it up. His jaw tightened as he read it. When he looked up again, his stormy eyes were darker.

“Someone’s been busy,” he muttered, more to himself than me.

I forced my feet to move. “See you around.”

I made it three steps before his voice stopped me again.

“Hey, Voss.”

I turned.

“Did you see anything weird this morning?”

My heart slammed against my ribs. “Weird how?”

He folded the note and shoved it into his hoodie pocket. “Doesn’t matter.” That half-smirk returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Stay out of trouble.”

I walked away faster than necessary, cheeks burning.

Back in the safety of the girls’ bathroom, I leaned against the sink and stared at my reflection.

Rule number one, Lila. Never get involved.

But Kai Rivera had looked at me really looked at me twice in two days.

And now I had to deliver more messages to him.

This was going to be a problem.