I rolled my eyes and clicked on the mad icon under one of Mallory’s posts.

Cora leaned forward and laughed under her breath. “You’re in your sister’s Facebook account. That’s creepy and hilarious at the same time.”

I felt Willow’s pride and shrugged. “She’d think it was awesome.”

Cora looked at me, her gaze lingering, but I ignored it. I kept scrolling through more of Mallory’s posts to put the mad icon on all of them.

“She’ll know it’s you. You know that, right?”

She would, and I grinned. “She can prove it.”

Cora shifted back. “Dude. You look evil right now.”

If she only knew what went on in your head.

I ignored Willow and clicked the mad icon under another post.

“That’s a Pinterest meme on DIY Halloween decorations.”

I kept scrolling. “My dad hates Halloween. She should know that.”

Cora laughed again, but the sound was becoming less amused and more cautious.

I couldn’t be bothered with any of it. I was a madwoman on a mission. If my mom wasn’t going to rage about this whole situation, I was. Willow would’ve been going nuts. She would’ve screamed, demanding answers. She would’ve been on the phone, calling the mistress and our mom at the same time.

She would’ve burned our house down—figuratively . . . I think?

I waited to see if Willow had anything to say, but she was quiet. Come to think of it, she’d been quiet more and more lately.

I’m taking on her personality.

That was why. Willow was living through me, so she didn’t need to—and the bell rang.

Thank the gods. That stopped me from having a whole conversation in my head about why my dead sister wasn’t talking to me anymore . . . in my head.

Cora grabbed her bag and stood. She hugged it against her chest as I clicked out of everything on my computer. “Everyone is going to Patty’s for lunch. Are you going too?”

I grabbed my bag and began walking out of the library. “Who’s everyone?” I asked as we got to the door.

She ducked out behind me. “The guys. Ryan, I think. Erin. Her group.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. The popular people.”

Ah. Popularity.

The stuff normal teenagers cared about.

I glanced over at her, but she wasn’t looking at me. “I’m not popular.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Trust me. You are, even if you don’t know it. You’re with Ryan, and the other girls are scared of you.”

They should be. There were two of me, and one of us could haunt their asses. I snickered at that but didn’t reply. I wasn’t popular, and I didn’t care. I hadn’t cared in Arizona, and that hadn’t changed. Ryan was the only benefit of moving.

I stopped in the middle of the hallway. Some students protested behind us. I ignored them.

Cora had taken a step forward, but she stopped and looked back.

“Is that why you wanted to be with him?” I asked.

Her eyes enlarged, and her mouth made a popping sound. “Uh, what?” She adjusted the bag in front of her, hugging it tighter.

“You want to be popular?” I shook my head. “But aren’t you? You’re friends with those guys. Shouldn’t that make you popular too?”

A strangled squeak left her throat. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Why?”

People were trying to press around us. One guy cursed at us, then saw me and coughed to cover it up. “Sorry. Hey, Mackenzie.” He was gone before I could say anything, but I could see the back of his neck turning red.

“See? DJ Reynolds has no idea who I am. That would not have happened with me.” She pointed in the direction he went.

“No, I’m not. I’m . . .” Damaged. Broken. Half-dead. Having sex—make that I had sex. Once. I was sexually experienced, kind of. “This is not normal me. Trust me. Normal me is not popular. Normal me . . .” I hesitated, but normal me was like Cora. Somewhat.

Everyone likes you, Mac. Get over yourself. You never have to try for anything.

Willow had said to me the day we found out we were moving. I flinched when I remembered.

She had been so wrong. She was the one everyone liked. Even my two best friends had dropped me because they missed her so much. Didn’t she get that? Had she really not gotten that? She was the star.

I looked away. “Normal me was invisible. Trust me.”

I was wrong. I hadn’t been like Cora. She cared the way Willow cared, but Willow had succeeded. She’d thrived with the social hierarchy stuff.

I needed to stop thinking about Willow.

I felt her snort and thought to her, Sorry, but you make me slightly deranged.

Only slightly?

Cora and I needed to get moving. The next bell would ring soon, and I clamped on to her arm. She was watching me with her head tilted to the side, but I wanted to make sure she heard me.