The first copycat incident didn't make the news.
It happened two streets over from the high school—quiet, fast, almost forgettable if you weren't looking for it.
A sophomore named Dylan Hayes jumped behind a convenience store. Two older kids cornered him, accused him of "knowing something," demanded answers he didn't have.
When he said he didn't know Jack, didn't know Max, didn't know anything—
They hit him anyway.
They left him with a split lip and a warning:
"Start talking before someone makes you."
The second incident did make the news.
"TEEN ASSAULTED IN POSSIBLE COPYCAT ATTACK."
The word copycat spread like wildfire.
It gave people a script.
At school, it got worse.
Students filmed each other in hallways. Arguments turned into interrogations. People demanded sides—Are you with them or not?
The group stopped sitting together.
Not officially.
Just… gradually.
Jas sat with Nick at the hospital during lunch.
Lily stayed close to Jack—but spoke less.
Kevin stayed alone.
Watching.
Always watching.
Nick hadn't woken up yet.
Doctors called it a "severe concussion." Said he needed time.
Jack visited every day.
He sat beside the bed, quiet, patient. The perfect friend.
The nurses praised him.
"He's been here more than anyone," one of them said.
Kevin overheard.
It made his stomach turn.
The third incident broke something.
It happened at night.
A house.
Not random.
Max's house.
Someone spray-painted across the garage door:
HE DESERVED IT
Underneath it, in smaller letters:
WHO'S NEXT?
Max's mother called the police. I cried this time. Screamed.
The town didn't know how to process it.
So it did what it always did.
It picked a direction and ran.
A new headline dropped the next morning:
"VIGILANTE JUSTICE? TOWN DESCENDS INTO FEAR AFTER COPYCAT ATTACKS."
This time, the article mentioned the group directly.
Names.
Photos.
Speculation dressed as concern.
Kevin read it twice.
Then closed his laptop.
Because something clicked.
This wasn't random.
It escalated.
And escalation always had a source.
That afternoon, Kevin found Jack alone.
For once.
They stood in the empty hallway, silence stretching between them.
"You see the news?" Kevin asked.
Jack nodded. "Yeah. It's getting out of hand."
His tone was calm. Concerned.
Perfect.
Kevin stepped closer. "Funny how it all started after the meeting."
Jack tilted his head. "You leaked that."
"I did," Kevin said. "I wanted to see what would happen."
"And?" Jack asked.
Kevin held his gaze. "Now I know."
A pause.
Not long.
But long enough.
Jack smiled faintly. "Be careful, Kevin."
It didn't sound like advice.
That night, another incident.
This one is closer.
Someone broke into a locker room after hours and carved a name into the bench.
NICK
The message underneath:
LIAR
At the hospital, machines beeped steadily.
Nick lay still.
Jack sat beside him, watching.
Waiting.
He leaned in slightly, voice low.
"You weren't supposed to get hurt," Jack murmured.
A pause.
Then, softer:
"But you still matter."
He sat back, expression unchanged.
Across town, Kevin added another line to his wall:
The violence isn't spreading.
It's being guided.
And for the first time, he didn't just feel like he was solving a mystery.
He felt like he was inside one.