For the first time since the fourth grade, I had become obsessed with a boy. Unlike that unfortunate phase where every wall of my bedroom was plastered with posters and hand drawn pictures, likely due to aliens abducting me in my sleep and turning my brain into mush, the boy I was obsessing over was not a handsome, teenage TV star with magical powers, piercing blue eyes, and a wolf sidekick, but Chace Parker.

As riveting as it was to listen to Mrs. Allen talk about the latest addition to her horde of cats, affectionately named Miss Cuddles, instead of teaching us about art, my mind was elsewhere. I replayed my encounter with Parker during lunch over and over again, recalling every minute detail from his lack of grief to his utilization of his best friend's death to bolster his social status.

Parker was many things (a womanizer, a lunkhead, an arrogant jerk who relished in tackling people into the dirt, to name a few) but I doubted that he was capable of murder. No matter how much I told myself that he neither had the brains nor the cunning to cover it up, years of watching crime shows with my father taught me to never rule out any suspects.

Though it was not my job to help Belmont any further than advising him on his new life as a ghost, I felt a personal responsibility to avenge his death. If it were not for me believing that the danger passed after saving Katie, I may have been able to prevent his watery fate.

Will waved his hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my daze. While lost in my thoughts, the bell had rung and students were leaving the classroom. A poster, covered in big, bright letters and glitter, was plastered on every locker.

Ripping the poster from his locker, Will mentioned that everyone had been whispering about the party advertised by the poster instead of listening to the latest adventures of Miss Cuddles and her scratching post. Being thrown by Parker, it was planned for this Friday after the memorial, as an alternate outlet to grieve Belmont's death. Like me, Will found it ironic that Parker, who seemed to care the least about the loss of his best friend, decided to throw a party in his honor.

"Back to the library to finish up Chemistry?" he asked, slipping the folded poster into his jacket pocket.

"No," I said, my mind on Parker. "I overheard some freshman saying that he and his friends were going to drop stink bombs..."

He frowned at such a juvenile scheme. "Why does everyone mess with the library? Why not be original and do it in the teacher's lounge?"

"They lack your imagination. We could sit in the bleachers instead," I proposed. "I'd like to go home without my books being sticky from the courtyard tables. Let me get my textbook."

On the way to my locker, I bribed three freshmen who were well known pranksters and would not need encouragement to cause havoc in the library. After a bit of haggling, where the price for risking the wrath of the stern, elderly librarian increased from five dollars to forty dollars each, the troublemakers headed to the library, discussing their plan to propel them into the Belmont High prankster hall of fame.

I retrieved my chemistry textbook and texted my mother about staying after school with Will. She had taken my car for the day, her minivan not ideal for meeting with snooty investors for the town's art gallery.

The bleachers were an untypical homework spot, with the loud noise from practices for football, cheerleading, and track. Will tapped his pencil against the inside of his textbook to block out the shouts of the overly competitive football coaches.

"We should've taken our chances with the stink bombs," I said, as the head coach reprimanded a freshman player with personal insults about his 'chicken legs'.

He winced from the shrill whistles. "It's good to get fresh air. No one's thrown a football at my head so that's a plus."

I patted his back. "Glad you're aiming high."

My eyes met Parker's and he flashed me his signature smirk. It was impossible to focus on the assignment when the football coaches screamed over the tiniest mistakes and Hilton rivaled them with insults directed at the cheerleaders.

I almost left the bleachers to comfort Katie who was near tears after Hilton barked at her to lay off the junk food. Hilton's increasingly vicious insults were not the only distraction. During his practice, Parker would glance over at me and whenever we made eye contact, I hid my face in my notebook to hide the blush in my cheeks.

"That's the last one. I'll give you a ride home when Katie's done," said Will, shutting his textbook.

"It won't be over until Hilton has made every cheerleader cry," I pointed out, hearing her berate a girl for 'poor complexion'.

"I miss the days of Elena as captain," he lamented, Elena leading the squad with positivity. "It's like trading in a kitten for a dragon."

Katie received the harshest treatment, being the newest member to the squad. Hilton yelled herself hoarse as she mocked her inability to do a complicated flip. I stopped Will from interfering with the practice when Hilton compared her to a hippo. Even though he towered over Hilton, her brutal taunts were able to cut down anyone twice her size and his meddling would make the subsequent practices unbearable for Katie.

The football players sprinted past the bleachers, reeking of cheap cologne and sweat. I jumped out of my skin as my chemistry textbook was taken from my lap. Parker was standing in the row behind us, flipping through the textbook.

"Only you could be studying Chemistry when you have a front row seat to a gun show, Byrne," he said, holding the textbook out of my reach.

"Gun show?" I asked, puzzled.

He flexed his arm, showing off his massive biceps. I let out the tiniest giggle though on the inside, I wanted to hurl myself from the bleachers.

"I've got plenty of room in my car. I'll take you home," he offered, his tone implying that I had no choice.

"I'm taking her, Parker. We're waiting for Katie to finish with practice," said Will, scooting closer to me.

"Why would she want a ride in that dinosaur?" He handed me the textbook. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

"I don't want any trouble, Will. It's fine," I whispered.

"You can wait by my car. I just need to get changed," Parker told me, flicking Will's temple as he left the bleachers.

Sensing that Will would rather let me walk home than accept a ride from Parker, I promised to text him the moment I was in my house. I waited in the parking lot, next to Parker's expensive sports car. I had seen him drive several girls in this very car, aware that he was not offering the ride out of the goodness of his heart. Belmont was known for it too and among the girls at the school, it was considered an honor. Rumors spread that their 'charitable' rides included a detour at the Falls that did not involve a cute stroll across the bridge.

He and Elena were reflected in the side mirror. Running his fingers through his hair, he checked himself out, his ego not deflated by his death.

Elena punched my arm. "What the hell are you doing? Let Will drive you. You do not get in a car with Chace Parker. Don't tell me that it's to keep him from fighting Will. You've been weird ever since lunch."

"It's a ride home, Elena," I said, innocently.

"You know it's not—would you stop staring at yourself for one second and tell her that this is a horrible idea?" To get his attention, she yanked his ear. "She's going to be alone with Parker and we both know that he's not doing it because he's a decent person. Tessa, you're not this stup—you're doing this on purpose. The little looks during practice..."

I shrugged, focusing on a ladybug on the windshield. "I was working on Chemistry. We happened to look in the same direction at the same time and it was awkward so I would look down at my book."

"When you're lying, you look everywhere but at the person you're talking to and right now, you're staring at that ladybug," she accused, her hands on her hips.

"Maybe I like insects," I retorted. "Did you ever think that in the future, I want to be an entomologist?"

"Gross. Who would want that for a job? You really have issues, Byrne," said Belmont, smoothing his hair.

Not believing my supposedly secret passion for insects, Elena mentioned that another way to catch me in a lie was that I rambled and changed the subject to a random topic. She was not the stereotypical ditz who could be fooled with a feeble story and after all the time we spent together, she knew me better than anyone, sometimes better than I knew myself.

I confessed to the crazy theory that had been brewing inside my mind since my encounter with Parker in the stoner pit. Expecting the worst, I was not perturbed by Belmont bursting into a fit of hysterical laughter at the idea of his best friend being his killer.

"It sounds crazy—" I started.

"You're accusing one of my closest friends of killing me," he said, between laughs. "That's miles past crazy."

"Tell me he isn't acting strange. He was one of your closest friends but he's treating your death like it's a golden ticket to him being number one." Even Belmont had to find his behavior suspicious. "He's throwing a party a week after you died. Everyone is assuming it's for you but there's no mention of you on the poster."

Unable to come up with an explanation, he resorted to shaking his head. "This is Jackson Howler again," said Elena, crossing her arms.

"It's not, El," I said, trying to persuade her. "Maybe nine year old me thought he was the greatest thing ever and the creators of the show gave him the coolest name but seventeen year old me thinks it was either too on the nose or a lame joke. I'm not saying that Parker is the murderer but he knows it wasn't an accident. Why else would he say that he begged for his life? If I can find out what Parker's hiding, I can—"

"Can what? Get him arrested? Good luck with that when his dad is in charge of the police department!" she reasoned. "Let's say Fin was murdered. You know better than anyone that people die every day. You're beating yourself up that you couldn't stop your vision from happening but don't risk your life, especially for this jackass who doesn't care about you."

Elena pleaded for me to return to Will and Katie at the bleachers. I was torn between following her advice and my stubborn determination. The front doors swung open and Parker left the school with his duffel bag.

With each second, he was getting closer to the car and I was faced with two choices: forget about my suspicions and go on with my life or attempt to make a difference and find out the truth about Belmont's death. Elena's heart sank to the pit of her stomach as I sat inside the car. Dragging Belmont along with her, she moved into the backseat, getting slapped by Parker's bag.

"Admit it," he said, lazily draping his arm over my seat. "My car's nicer than your boyfriend's piece of junk."

Previously dealing with Belmont's similar insinuations, I sighed. "How many times do I have to say that Will's not my boyfriend?"

He grinned. "I like hearing you say it. It's a good reminder that you're available."

"This is just a ride home, Parker," I insisted.

Parker was unconvinced. He may not be valedictorian material but he knew I rarely sat at the bleachers, except for gym classes and pep rallies.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, playing up my shyness. "Y—you're right. I um thought about what you said in the stoner pit. About having a clean slate now that Fin's dead? I—it could be my fresh start and I thought if anyone could help me, it's you."

Parker's hand shifted to my knee. "Good choice. If you're serious, then we have to make a couple stops before I take you home."

As he drove to wherever he planned on taking me, I texted Will that I was safely home and then texted my mother that I was hanging out at Will's house. Parker parked the car at the mall.

In his mind, if I wanted a fresh start, that meant more than speaking up in class and hanging out with a new crowd. He brought me to a high-end boutique with a price range that was greater than my allowance. If I was lucky, I would be able to afford a pair of socks and a headband.

When I voiced my concerns about the expensive prices, seeing that a pair of ripped shorts cost the amount of a dinner at a high-end restaurant, he called it his treat, money never being an issue for him. My discomfort heightened when he gave three hundred dollars to a salesgirl to assist with picking out clothes. The girl, who looked the same age as Casey, agreed with a sweet smile though I detected a hint of disdain, my clothes not up to par with the boutique's standard clientele.

Introducing herself as 'Cindi with an I', she led me around the boutique and asked dozens of questions about my personal style and favorite designers. Elena expressed her disapproval of the older girl's backhanded compliments by knocking clothes and rails to the floor while Belmont wandered towards the fitting rooms.

After an hourlong interrogation of my fashion sense (or according to Cindi, my absence of one), I had enough clothes for the population of a small country. Parker sat on the couches outside the fitting rooms, encouraging me to show him the outfits. If my plan was going to work, I needed to at least pretend that his opinion mattered to me. I had fixed the problem of him seeing my reaper markings, dabbing my mother's paste over them in the bathroom before the end of lunch.

Changing out of my hoodie and jeans, I put on the first outfit: a sleeveless blue dress that was suited for a nightclub, not a school. I tugged on the dress to get it closer to my knees, but the material was too tight, as if it was made of glue. Telling myself that it was for a mission, I replaced my converse sneakers, white roses painted on the sides by me, with a pair of four inch heels.

I peeked through a crack in the door. Parker was texting on his phone while he flirted with Cindi and invited her to his party. Elena and Belmont were on the couch, bickering over his recklessness and abuse of his ghost form by spying on girls in the fitting rooms. Psyching myself up, I left the room and four pairs of eyes fell on me.

"I uh think I should get a size up." I pulled on the dress. "It's kind of short."

"The dress is supposed to look like that, sweetie," said Cindi, irked that Parker had not taken his eyes off of me or my chest, which was pushed up by the tight dress.

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"Trust me, it's perfect," said Parker, getting up from the couch.

He turned me towards a full-length mirror. I knew that the girl reflected in the glass was me but it was a bizarro version. It was like an alien had invaded my body to make me into a clone of Hilton. To Parker, I was a notch in his belt, a name to add to his long list of hookups.

The lust in his eyes blinded him to my unease and the fact that it was merely an act. "I look—"

"Sexy," he said, standing so close that I could feel his 'excitement'. "Every guy sees it but they don't say anything because they don't want to get yelled at about how girls shouldn't be objectified. That's for the ugly girls, not someone like you."

For Belmont, for Belmont, for Belmont.

In any other situation, I would be chewing him out for his stupidity. His thumb brushed against my hip.

"Why hide yourself? With Fin gone, I make the rules. You'd shoot up to the top of the social ladder and could kick a hag like Claire off it," he whispered. "She wishes she was like us. Stick with me and senior year will be our year. No one will remember Fin. He'll be nothing...just a line at the end of the yearbook."

I whipped my head around at a crashing sound, a broken vase by the couch shattered to pieces. Hopping over the sopping wet puddle of glass and flowers, Cindi scurried to the counter to get another salesperson to clean up the mess. She was in a panic, worried that her boss would fire her for the property damage, and muttered to herself about mothers bringing their misbehaving children into the boutique.

Parker ushered me into the fitting room to try on more clothes and a second later, Elena joined me, pulling Belmont by his ear.

"Did you throw that vase?" I asked, hitting his chest with a heel.

"No. It was Casper the Friendly Ghost," he said, sarcastically.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You heard Parker."

"Are you going to keep saying really obvious things?" Beneath his sarcasm was a simmering rage. "Yeah, I wanted to hit that moron and the vase shattered when I went to grab it. He thinks he can replace me?"

"That doesn't mean you try to bash his head. We talked about how you have to be discreet. What if someone saw that vase moving by itself?" I hissed, shuffling around hangers as a distraction.

"That's your problem, not mine," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Look, I'm here to find out what your best friend knows about the night you died," I said, the dress limiting my ability to move my arms. "It's why I'm dressed like a Hilton wannabe. I can't get answers from him if you're trying to make him the newest member of your ghost clique."

Around six o'clock, after spending hundreds of dollars on clothes, jewelry, and shoes, Parker dropped me off at my house. I decided to stash the shopping bags in my father's abandoned shed in the backyard. A year after my parents were married, my father had bought the shed from the local hardware store, eager to begin several projects, but as of his fortieth birthday, he had never once set foot inside, busy with his archaeological work.

It was a prime hiding place for my new clothes, unless my mother suddenly developed an overwhelming impulse to convert the shed into an art studio. I had no intention of explaining my admittedly flimsy plan to her, anticipating that the backlash would be worse than Elena's since it was against the reaper rules.

"Tessa?"

Hearing my mother, I shut the cardboard box that contained my bags. She was outside the shed, her jeans stained with a dirt and a trowel in her hand.

"Byrne, you can't let her know what you're doing. Act natural," whispered Belmont, nudging my side.

"M—mom, you're um...you're home," I said, a little too chipper. "How was the meeting? Don't you have to pick up Ryan from soccer practice?"

She tucked the trowel into her floral apron. "Practice was cancelled. He wanted to have a play date with his friend Tommy so I dropped him off and thought I'd do some gardening."

"Oh, cool." I secretly pushed a bag further behind a stack of boxes with my foot. "Tommy's—he's a good friend. He might be insanely obsessed with dinosaurs but who am I to judge what someone likes?"

Listening to my rambling, Belmont looked at me like I had grown a second head and muttered, "What the hell? You're terrible at this. Have you never lied to her before? Say you have homework and run."

"Fin, you are aware that I can hear you, yes?" asked my mother, her eyes directly on him.

He stopped giving me advice on how to tell a convincing lie at the realization that, like me, my mother was able to see ghosts. Elena leaned against the walls, amused by the scene unraveling before her. When my mother asked why Parker was at Will's house, having seen him drop me off, I knew that it was a wasted effort to make up a story.

My mother had a special talent, her 'sixth sense'. Without even seeing the person's face, she was able to detect any lie. I admitted to going to the mall with Parker.

"With the best friend of your new friend?" she asked, curiously.

"Whoa, we are not friends," denied Belmont, shuddering at the possibility. "She's...this is not a friendship. It's whatever. We are working together towards a common goal. Side note, he's my ex-best friend who she thinks could've killed me."

"What is he talking about, Tessa?" There it was, the stern, motherly voice. "Why you were at the mall with that boy?"

"Because I kind of do think that he did kill him or he knows who did do it. He was being weird at lunch and he said with Belmont gone, it was a fresh start for me and I pretended to want that so he took me to the mall to buy new clothes to get me into his group of friends," I said in a single breath.

We stared at each other in silence for a full minute. "You two will stay here while I speak to Tessa alone."

Elena looked at my mother, confused. "You two? Wait, Celia, I did nothing wrong. He was the one who gave her this idea. Don't leave me alone with him. Once you go, I'll follow you anyway. It's not like you can stop me."

My mother removed a small leather pouch from her jeans pocket and poured its contents, a grey powder, across the doorway. As Elena neared the doorway, she was repelled by an invisible shield. When Belmont attempted to exit the shed by running towards the door, the same happened to him, the force sending him flying into the wall.

My mother apologized for using the powder, explaining that the conversation needed to be in private. I hesitated to leave Elena behind with Belmont but I was tempted by a desire for answers.

Sitting in the kitchen, the tension killing me as my mother made us tea, I wondered if she would at least hear me out before scolding me for overstepping my boundaries as a reaper. The agonizing silence was finally broken by the whistling of the kettle.

"Was the powder necessary?" I asked, worrying about Elena. "Belmont's a jerk but he wouldn't hurt either of us. When you used it against that ghost who was stalking you and Dad, you said it was for emergencies only, to keep out dangerous beings."

"As I said, this is a private conversation," She handed me a cup. "I don't know Fin well but I can tell he isn't the type to stay quiet. I'm not angry with you, Tessa. This conversation is overdue and some things need to stay between us and our kind."

I never heard her speak that way about normal humans. When I began training as a reaper, she taught me to not think of myself as superior to others, no matter if they were a reaper, a ghost, or an ordinary person.

"We're still people, Mom," I said, taking a sip of my tea. "People with extra skills but it doesn't make us less human."

She rested her elbows on the counter. "No, but we are different. It's the truth. We never spoke about what happened the night Fin died...what you did with the lamp. It's a sign of your abilities growing, quite rapidly since it happened outside the physical realm. You're almost eighteen and we've briefly discussed the importance of that special day. When you're in that state between life and death, you're like a ghost but you can cause much more damage."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat at the mention of my eighteenth birthday. In my bedroom, a calendar was hanging by my closet and the date was circled in bright red marker. I had been dreading that day since I learned about my abilities as a reaper.

"What does that mean?" I asked, preferring to steer away from this conversation.

"Ghosts like Elena and Fin have their limits whereas a powerful reaper could go beyond those limitations to..." She wavered, as if wanting to choose her next words wisely. "Why are you so invested in Fin's death? You've guided the deceased to the other side for years. You know it's a part of life. It was his time."

"I don't think it was, Mom. I could've stopped it," I told her.

I recounted my visions about Fin's death at the Falls and the mysterious voice in the background, how it wanted me to save whoever was meant to die that night. Though my mother dismissed my theory, asserting that death was an inevitable fate and reapers could not intervene, I noticed her grip tighten around her cup.

Her apprehension became more pronounced when I mentioned the creature that had attacked Katie on the bridge and the shadow attached to Casey's back as she crossed to the other side. I was not as skilled at detecting lies as my mother but a blind person could tell that she was hiding something from me.

"There are holes in Fin's death. That's why I heard the voice. It was warning me that he wasn't supposed to die," I said, leveraging my honesty to get an ounce of it from her. "I went to the bridge with him and Elena and I found—"

She looked at me, incredulous. "You trespassed on a crime scene? Tessa, what would possess you to do such a thing?"

Such a simple question made me unload what I kept buried inside since visiting the bridge. I told her how the cops ruled his death an accident barely a day after it occurred and there was no formal investigation. Like Elena, she did not think much of the two sets of scratches on the railing, despite me recognizing Katie's nail polish and the wood chips under Belmont's nails.

"There was dried blood and a ring wedged under the bridge," I said, needing someone besides two teenagers to believe me. "I think the ring was covered in gun powder. I can show it to you. When dad gets back, he can take a look at it too. I mean, maybe all those things have nothing to do with Belmont but how could his blood be on the railing if he hit his head in the water? It could mean he was attacked before he fell, that he was pushed..."

"You are not a cop," she said, firmly. "If you truly think that Fin was murdered, we'll bring this evidence to the police. Tomorrow morning, we can drop off the ring and any information you have at the station. We'll do it anonymously."

"Did you not hear me?" I asked, feeling like I was speaking to a brick wall. "The cops aren't investigating it. He's the son of the family whose ancestors founded this damn town. Wouldn't everyone be panicking over his death? How can his parents accept that it was an accident when there are no witnesses and the only evidence is that he was drinking at the party?"

"Tessa, listen to me," she implored. "I understand that you regret not being able to save him but this isn't your concern. That voice—every reaper hears it when they wrestle with their duties. I went through this myself when I was your age. I had a Fin Belmont."

My mother opened up about an incident from her past, one that she kept from my own father. When she was around my age, she shared my optimism: that reapers could change fate and prevent deaths. As her father said to her, young reapers go through a phase, thinking they can be the one that makes a change in the cycle.

Her optimism led to her wanting to save the life of a boy who was very much like Belmont, the popular, handsome jock. Despite their polar opposite upbringings, growing up in their hometown near Belmont Falls, they spoke often during their classes. Hearing a voice in her visions, uttering the phrase from mine ("Save them"), she had rescued him from a massive car pileup that claimed twenty lives but he then died hours later, struck by a car while out with his friends.

She sighed, unenthusiastic about the trip down memory lane. "Afterwards, I asked questions. He was hardly a genius but he wouldn't run into the street without looking both ways. The police never arrested anyone for his death even though his friends had plenty of information on the car and the driver. I blamed myself for weeks. When I stopped him from driving before the accident, I saw a shadow clinging to his back. His eyes turned milky white and it was as though he was possessed...forced to drive the car..."

My mother's experience proved that I was not insane. After saving Katie, I kept telling myself to forget the shadow monster, dismissing it as a rogue ghost playing games. Was there a connection between the deaths?

Reliving such a bad memory put her on edge. "You need to stop digging into this incident. The voice was your conscience. It wasn't real. Reapers are sworn to upheld the natural flow. Deviating from it could be catastrophic. Saving that boy from the car accident changed nothing. He was meant to die that day and he did through alternate means. If Fin's death was not meant to be, we would've heard from the council."

"Then we should be—"

My mother slammed her hand on the counter. Behind her stern expression was one of fear and worry. She took my hands into her own, begging me to not meddle with matters of death. After her incident, she had been like me, seeking answers from her parents and the council that oversaw reapers, and my grandmother warned her against it, adamant that it would lead her on a dark and dangerous path.

"Fin's human. He wants justice because he can't comprehend that his life was cut short, just when it seemed to be beginning...but it can't come at the cost of your life, Tessa," she said, a tear trickling down her cheek. "However he died, an accident or a murder, it was fate. Why burden him with the details? Please let this go and live your life as you have, sweetheart. Don't go looking for trouble."

I was at a loss for words at her insistence to forget about Belmont's murder. If she never told me that story from her past, I would have been more willing to convince him that finding his murderer was a lost cause but genuinely hearing the tremble in her voice furthered my resolve to uncover the truth. I had a gut feeling that the two incidents were related and the presence of these shadow creatures could not be chalked up to coincidence. Keeping my thoughts to myself, I agreed to push aside my suspicions for my mother's sake.

Elena and Belmont were equally intrigued about the private conversation. She was relieved that my mother was siding with her pleas to not investigate the possible murder.

In my retelling, I left out how my mother once encountered the creature that attacked Katie. All three were convinced that I gave up on my plan, something Belmont openly did not agree with, and he spent half the night berating me as a goody two-shoes who would never disobey her parents.

His insults carried into breakfast and around my mother, he lowered his voice though not so low that my mother could not hear him. He threatened to expose himself as a ghost to get her to reconsider but my mother called his bluff, acknowledging that proving his new existence to anyone in Belmont Falls outside my family was impossible.

Ryan, who knew of him through his youngest brother Bradley, tried to distract him with sports talk, having Belmont write down his responses in his notebook. Aside from exposing a ghost to humans, it was also impossible to resist my brother's puppy dog eyes. For a short while, he kept Belmont's mind off of potential murder suspects.

I was in the school parking lot, among the earliest to arrive but not getting out of my car until it was five minutes to homeroom. "Now that I'm done pretending to care what a five year old thinks about soccer, back to you, Miss Squeaky Clean."

"Are you finished?" I asked, putting my backpack on the hood.

"Nope. I've got tons of names for you, Byrne," he said, proudly. "It's pathetic that you're scared to go behind your mommy's back. She's wrong."

"Yep."

"What?" he chorused with Elena.

"My mom is wrong," I conceded, hardly believing that he and I were in agreement. "I told her that I was going to give up so she's not suspicious. Operation: Reaper is a go. I thought having a code name would make it sound cooler. It's like SHIELD infiltrating HYDRA."

"It does sound—no, you're not distracting me. You're listening to your mom, not this idiot who's like a devil on your shoulder," said Elena, waving at him like he was a vile slug. "If she says this is a bad idea, it's a bad idea."

I unzipped my backpack. "Well, life is making mistakes and learning from them. Step one? Walk into school."

"That's step one?" she asked, anxious. "How is that—"

Elena's voice faltered as I lifted my t-shirt over my head, revealing the short-sleeved white crop top underneath, and wriggled out of my jeans, which hid my burgundy and white tartan mini skirt. As I switched out my sneakers for ankle high, open-toed boots and put on the leather jacket from the party, Belmont and Elena stared at me with dumbfounded expressions.

"I condensed it for simplicity," I said, chucking my sneakers, shirt, and jeans into my backpack. "Step one is to change into new clothes that I was hiding from my mom and walk into school."

Belmont's shock was swiftly replaced with a mischievous smile. "Good first step. Listen to that devil on your shoulder, babe."

I kept his hand from touching my lower back. "Do not ever call me babe. I might be dressed like this but I'm still me."

"Can't stop me from looking," he whispered in my ear.

Throwing him a disgusted glare, I entered the school. I thought I was prepared for the reactions from my peers but my imagination undersold it. For once, no one was whispering about my latest fainting incident or calling me crude names like Make A Wish. I reminded myself that the wardrobe change was for nothing more than getting information out of Parker but their stunned reactions were an added bonus.

My new look had drawn attention away from the argument between Will and Katie at his locker. He wanted her to quit the cheerleading team instead of having to endure Hilton's torment for the sake of popularity.

Introducing Will to my new look would be difficult. He was the type of person who was averse to changes, even one as small as sitting at another desk during classes. I tapped his shoulder as he listed reasons to not be a cheerleader.

"What, did you text her cheerleader clones to come here and convince me that the torture Hilton puts you through is helpful?" he asked Katie, whose face resembled the night of the party.

"I don't think I'd be much of a cheerleader," I said, almost offended by his assumption that I was a Hilton minion. "I'm not that peppy."

The realization struck him like a truck. He blinked several times as if expecting it to be a dream where I transformed into a sci-fi monster.

"Katie, can I talk to your brother?" I asked, giving her the opportunity to end their fight.

Speechless, she nodded and I dragged Will into a supply closet. "Tessa?" he squeaked.

"No, I'm an orc," I said, hoping humor would soften the blow. "Of course it's me."

"How—why—did Parker do this to you? I shouldn't have let him drive you home. Did he give you something to drink? Did it smell funny?" he rambled. "Maybe it brainwashed you. Blink twice for yes. We've seen the movies. We know how to—"

"Will, I'm not brainwashed and before you say it, I know that's what a person who is possibly brainwashed would say but I swear I'm not," I said, composedly. "Remember when Parker was talking about a fresh start?"

His eyes were bulging out of his skull. "You are brainwashed."

"You have to trust me. Whatever I wear, however I talk, whatever I do...I don't mean it. I'm doing this for...reasons that I can't tell you right this second. You're my friend so I didn't want you to freak out. Just please trust me." My assurances did not ease his nerves. "Hopefully, this lasts for about a week and then I'll be back to normal."

A voice in the back of my head was screaming for me to tell Will the truth. With our smarts combined, we could solve Fin's murder twice as quickly but if he could not handle me wearing a skirt instead of jeans, finding out that I was a reaper capable of seeing ghosts would send him to a mental hospital.

I settled for telling him about the act I was putting on for Parker though I refused to give him an actual reason for accepting the offer. Leaving a disoriented Will in the closet, I walked towards Parker's locker, readying myself for the worst: Belmont's former clique.