Chapter 2

Tiff' s smile tightened. She wasn' t used to not getting what she wanted.

"Oh, come on, Sarah," she pressed, her voice losing some of its sugar. "Don't be like that. We're all friends here. Just a little friendly advice."

Mark leaned forward. "Yeah, Miller. Don't be stingy. We all know your mom' s got the inside track."

The familiar pressure started to build, other classmates turning, their faces expectant.

In my first life, this was where I crumbled, where I started to think maybe, just maybe, giving them something would make them leave me alone.

This time, I held their gaze.

"Inside track?" I said, feigning confusion. "My mom just helps design test questions, like, the methodology. She doesn't see the actual tests beforehand. That would be a huge security risk."

Tiff scoffed. "Right. And I' m sure she tells you nothing."

"She talks about psychometrics," I said, deliberately obtuse. "Standard deviations, bell curves. It' s pretty boring, actually."

I saw a flicker of annoyance in Tiff' s eyes. My sarcastic, unhelpful answer wasn't what she expected. She thought I was either being difficult or genuinely clueless. Perfect.

Later that day, in the hallway, Tiff cornered me by my locker. Mark loomed beside her, arms crossed.

"Look, Sarah," Tiff said, dropping the pretense of friendliness. "We know your mom can get you stuff. And we know you' re smart enough to figure things out. We need good scores. Our parents are on our backs."

"And if you don't help us," Mark added, his voice a low threat, "things could get... uncomfortable for you."

My blood ran cold, not with fear this time, but with a chilling resolve.

Tiff then switched tactics, her eyes welling up with fake tears.

"Please, Sarah," she sniffled, loud enough for a passing Mr. Henderson, the class advisor known for favoring popular students, to hear. "We're just asking for a little help. It's so much pressure. Don't you care about your friends?"

Mr. Henderson paused. "Is there a problem here, girls? Sarah?"

Tiff immediately turned to him, dabbing her eyes. "Oh, Mr. Henderson, it's nothing. Sarah was just... being a little uncooperative about sharing some study tips. We all just want to do well."

Mr. Henderson frowned at me. "Sarah, teamwork is important. If you have knowledge that can benefit your classmates, you should share it. That' s what good students do."

He actually believed her. The popular girl' s tears always worked.

I was forced to mumble an apology, the humiliation a bitter echo of my past life.

Good, I thought. Let them think I'm weak. Let them think they've won this round.