By the time I sit down with a full tray, I'm pretty certain I have over a hundred dollars in food. How have I let myself miss out on this?! I think as I cut into the steak and groan. It's perfectly medium-rare on the inside, steakhouse level perfection.

Sitting alone in the back corner, I'm pretty confident that I'll be left alone. I've done a damn good job of making sure everyone at this school hates me. I pause with a bite of goat cheese mashed potatoes halfway to my mouth and feel a wave of sadness wash over me. Back home, I have heaps of friends waiting. Here … I have no one. At first, my new loner status didn't bother me, but I think all the isolation's starting to wear on my nerves.

I set my spoon down and close my eyes, pulling in a long, deep breath before I open them again. When I do, I jump, because there the twins are just suddenly there, sitting on either side of me.

“What do you want?” I ask as they both prop their heads on their hands, elbows balanced on the table.

“Spencer says you're gay,” they tell me in unison, and I shrug.

“So?” I pick up my glass of cranberry juice, with the giant round ball of ice, and the fresh cranberry and mint springs on the side (it seriously looks like a fancy cocktail) and take a sip.

“Is that why you've been such an ass?” Micah asks, staring at me with lazy eyes. His full mouth curves up into a smirk.

“Is it?” Tobias repeats, and when I glance back at him, I find the exact same facial expression on his face. They both have this burnt red-orange hair that sort of sticks up as it pleases in little tufted spikes. It looks accidental, but I know better. They each spend about an hour in the bathroom every morning. Not sure why, considering there aren't any girls here to impress. Well, not that they know of.

“I'm …” I don't know what else to say, so I just shrug again. “Yeah, I like guys. I told Spencer that. It doesn't mean I like him, so can you just leave me alone?” The twins exchange a look before turning their attention back to me.

“How's your head?” they ask, once again in unison. I wish I knew how they did it, all of that perfect cohesiveness. Reaching tentative fingers up, I touch the side of my head and shrug. It still hurts, but it's gotten a hell of a lot better.

“It's fine.” I stand up because I don't like the way they're both staring at me, and I leave my tray where it is. That's how it works here: there's always somebody else to clean up after you. There's actually no place to put the used trays; it's just expected to leave it for an employee. It's not a lifestyle I'm used to. Not even sure I'm comfortable with it.

The twins let me go, but that's not the last time I see them that week.

On Friday, I do my usual thing, counting down the days to the November break while I sit on the sofa in the abandoned girls' dorm, looking through the pictures from the old yearbooks that I saved on my phone. I've taken the class photo off the wall, too, and it's sitting next to me on the coffee table.

I'm determined to find out what happened to this girl, and why nobody's talking about her, why my dad didn't even mention her. I brought her up at dinner last week, but Dad barely acknowledged me. He didn't even look up from his tablet or put down the spoonful of peas he was holding midair. He told me had no idea what I was talking about, that I was the first girl to ever attend Adamson, and then when he finally did look my way with crinkled brows, his only question was on where I'd seen the class photo in the first place.

A noise outside gives me pause, and I turn the screen on my phone off, leaning over to blow out the black pillar candle that I pilfered from the common area on Halloween. The room plunges into darkness and I sit there as still and quiet as I can. Wouldn't be the first false alarm I've had. Last time, a tiny pair of eyes appeared from a hole in the wall and an opossum hissed at me before retreating.

After a moment of silence, I reach out to grab my lighter when the front door swings open and two figures waltz in. My first instinct is to scramble off the couch and reach for one of the old bricks I found outside and brought in as a weapon. If I have to, I will smash some creeper upside the head with it.

One of the figures flicks on a flashlight and shines the beam right in my face as I hold up a hand to shield my eyes.

“What the hell?” I ask before the light drops down, and I blink through the darkness. One of the McCarthy twins holds the beam up to his own face and smiles wickedly at me.

My heart drops and I feel a deep frown etch itself into my lips.

No! This is my spot, my sanctuary. I hold back a curse and set the brick back on the coffee table, grabbing the lighter and holding it to the candle wick until we're standing in a warm glow.

“What do you two want?” I ask as they exchange a look and move into the living room area, taking up my valuable personal space. One of them—let's call him Micah—picks up the class photo and studies it for a moment.

“You shouldn't be digging into this,” he says, exchanging a look with his brother. They both turn their emerald eyes back to me, studying my face. They've been following me around all week. I want to know what they're up to. Or what they think I'm up to.

“Why not?” I ask, feeling defiant as I grab the painting, my notebook, and my phone, taking up a new position on one of the other chairs in the room. Before I get a chance to grab my pretzels or the six pack of soda I brought with me, the twins are digging into it, and I'm groaning. “Please leave me and my food alone, don't you haunt me enough as it is?”

“This is Ranger's sister, Jenica,” one of the twins says, and the other gives his brother a look, like maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all. One of my brows goes up. That's the first time I've ever heard them disagree on anything. They barely speak separate sentences, let alone have separate opinions.

“Yeah, so you said,” I reply, sneaking the last unopened soda away from them and cracking the top. The last thing I want is for them to stay here, but I figure if I make a big deal over it, they'll come back more often, just to piss me off. “Why is she such a ghost?”

They both turn back to me then with raised brows and slightly wide gazes, like I've just said something alarming.

I pull the soda can away from my lips and cock a brow of my own, pausing to push my glasses up with my middle finger. The long sleeves of my hoodie fall low and cover up my hands.

“Wait, is she … she's not dead, is she? I just meant she's got no online presence, no photos on Ranger's social media, or his mom's or—”

“She killed herself,” Tobias says—I think he was the one that spilled the beans about Jenica's name. Micah narrows his green eyes and elbows his brother in the side, but Tobias isn't done. “That's the story anyway. And Ranger's mother is a devout Catholic. She's ashamed. She thinks Jenica went to hell.”

Wow.

“Please shut up,” Micah whispers, giving Tobias a dark look. “You 're going to get us both killed by Ranger.”

“So Ranger's ashamed of his sister, too?” I ask, thinking how sad that is. If the girl really did commit suicide, she was clearly suffering. And then for her family to posthumously abandon her? Fuck.

“No, he thinks she was murdered,” Tobias blurts, and then his brother really does elbow him in the stomach. They both curl their lips up in matching snarls, and then lean in so close their foreheads almost touch. “He has a right to know.”