Chapter 1

The world snapped back into focus, not with a gentle fade, but a harsh, jolting reality.

One moment, there was nothing, the cold abyss of my own making.

The next, I was sitting in my junior year English class, Mr. Davies droning on about The Great Gatsby.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage.

It was real. I was back.

The date on the whiteboard confirmed it: September 14th. Weeks before the PSATs, months before the SATs that had ruined everything.

My first life played out in my mind like a horror film.

The relentless pressure from Tiff Reynolds and her crew, my mother' s College Board connection a magnet for their greed.

My stupid, naive attempt to make them stop by sharing my SAT predictions.

The 80% accuracy that got everyone, even the slackers, into good colleges.

Then, the betrayal. Tiff, green with envy because I was valedictorian and got into Yale while she "only" got into Penn, twisted my help into a monstrous lie.

She said I' d masterminded a cheating ring, fed actual test questions from my mother.

The investigation. My admission rescinded. Mom suspended, her career in flames.

Dad... Dad' s heart couldn't take the shame, the hounding. He died.

The memory was a fresh wound, raw and bleeding.

I' d tried to end it all then, the weight of their blame too heavy.

But now, a second chance.

My fists clenched under the desk.

This time, things would be different.

This time, they would pay.

My mother, Dr. Emily Miller, was a psychometrician. She consulted for the College Board. In my first life, that connection was a curse.

Now, it would be a weapon.

I glanced across the aisle. Tiff Reynolds, student council president, head cheerleader, queen bee, was whispering to Mark Johnson, the star quarterback I' d once had a foolish crush on.

They were already looking at me. The whispers had started.

Tiff caught my eye and gave a sickly sweet smile.

"Sarah, sweetie," she cooed, loud enough for the nearby rows to hear. "We were just talking about the PSATs. Your mom works with the College Board, right? Any chance you could give us some... pointers?"

Mark snickered, his eyes cold.

The old Sarah would have stammered, blushed, tried to explain.

The new Sarah smiled back, a mirror of Tiff' s false sweetness.

"Pointers, Tiff? For the PSATs?" I let out a small, innocent laugh. "I wouldn't know where to start."

My internal voice was colder. Oh, I know exactly where this starts. And I know exactly how it will end for you.