The first person at Grayhaven High to realize something was wrong was Tori Hale.
Not a teacher.
Not anyone who had shared classes with me for two years.
The girl who had paid to make me disappear.
Tori was sitting on top of my desk when Mara entered the room, one sneaker planted on the chair. Three girls hovered nearby. Conversation thinned as my face appeared in the doorway.
A girl near the windows waved. “Claire. You okay? You were out yesterday.”
“Yeah,” Mara said.
One syllable. Close enough.
Tori said nothing at first.
Her smile simply switched off.
Mara noticed.
So did I.
If Tori had only been a bully, my return should have annoyed her.
Instead she looked at Mara the way you look at a mistake in reality.
Mara stopped beside the desk.
“That’s my seat.”
Tori looked her over. “You still came to school?”
Mara did not ask the question she wanted.
She lowered her eyes, tightened her grip on the backpack strap, folded her shoulders inward.
I recognized the posture.
Me.
Not me at home. Me around Tori—the version of myself that had learned how to occupy as little room as possible.
Watching Mara imitate my fear made me want to slap her straight.
Tori bought it.
“What?” She slid off the desk. “Last night wear you out so bad you forgot how to talk?”
Mara stayed quiet.
Tori stepped closer. “I heard you cried.”
One of the girls laughed, then stopped when Tori glanced at her.
“Those guys really don’t know when to quit,” Tori said. “This morning you weren’t here, so I figured…”
Mara looked up.
“You figured what?”
Tori stopped.
That was all Mara needed to do.
No accusation. No alley. No names.
Tori walked the rest of the distance herself.
“Nothing.”
She shoved Mara’s shoulder.
Mara gave half a step. Her hand closed at her side, then opened.
I knew that movement too.
Restraint.
Tori tipped her head. “What, you forget those guys too?”
Behind Mara was the glass trophy case.
Tori went silent.
Her gaze slid past Mara and locked on the reflection.
I turned.
Mara stood in the glass.
Behind her stood another girl.
Me.
Not as I was in the classroom.
As I had been in the alley: blood in my hair, collar torn, head resting at an angle a living neck could not hold.
Tori stumbled backward and struck the desk.
“No.”
“What’s wrong?” one of her friends asked.
Tori kept staring at the case.
Mara turned.
Only her own reflection looked back.
“Something there?” she asked.
Tori swallowed.
“If those guys couldn’t deal with you, then…” She caught herself too late. “The video still exists. You start talking and—”
Mara blinked once.
“What video?”
Tori looked at her.
I could almost hear the curse in her head.
“Forget it.”
She walked away.
Mara let her.
She had what she needed: those guys, last night, video.
Not a confession.
Enough.
The school day continued.
That became one of the cruelest things about being dead. The bells still rang. Teachers passed out quizzes. Someone complained about cafeteria pizza. My desk remained in the same row while my body lay beneath a magnolia tree forty minutes away.
Last period, Mr. Warren entered the room.
He taught senior English and advised student council. He set a stack of papers on his desk, scanned the class, and let his eyes rest on Mara too long.
Nausea rolled through me.
Not a memory. Not exactly.
Cold coffee.
A locked door.
Pain around my wrist.
I looked down at my hand.
Mara did too.
Her thumb rubbed the same place my corpse wore the old bruise.
Warren adjusted his glasses.
“Claire. Stay after class.”
I wanted to tell her not to.
I did not yet know why I was so afraid.
After the final bell, Mara stayed.
The hall emptied. As she approached Warren’s classroom, the fragments inside me thickened.
Fluorescent light.
A hand smoothing my hair.
My own voice, small:
Please don’t.
I had not forgotten.
I had only refused to give what happened a name.
Mara entered.
Warren crossed behind her and locked the classroom door.
Click.
The sound went through me.
He smiled. “One day out and suddenly you think rules don’t apply to you?”
Mara said nothing.
Warren came close and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.
“Or did last time not teach you enough?”
Mara’s smile disappeared.
Not my smile.
Me.
For one instant, I vanished completely from her face.
“Last time?”
Warren grabbed her wrist.
The exact place.
Memory tore through me like current.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Claire.”
I remembered his sweat.
The lock.
Going home afterward and telling Mara I had fallen down the stairs.
I had hidden one thing from my sister more fiercely than anything else. Too late. She knew.
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