Chapter 2

The door creaked open.

Tiffany walked in, holding that same protein shake.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she chirped, that fake sweet smile plastered on her face. "Made you a power shake for your studies."

My stomach twisted. The dread was a physical thing.

I looked at her, really looked at her. The jealousy in her eyes, barely hidden.

"Thanks, Tiff," I said, my voice surprisingly calm. "You first."

Her smile faltered.

"What? Don't be silly, Sarah. I made it for you."

"I insist," I said, my gaze steady. "Or are you worried about something?"

Panic flickered in her eyes. "Of course not! I just... I'm not thirsty. And I already had breakfast."

She pushed the shake towards me again.

I took it.

Walked to the sink.

Poured it out.

The thick liquid gurgled down the drain.

Tiffany gasped. "Sarah! What are you doing? I made that for you!"

"I'm not thirsty either," I said, my voice cold.

She feigned offense, her face flushing. "Well, fine! Be like that!"

She stormed out, slamming the door.

I leaned against the counter, my legs weak.

But a new feeling surged through me.

Determination.

I went to my desk, pulled out my SAT review books.

My eyes were clear, my mind sharp.

This time, things would be different.

I remembered the old phone.

A cheap burner I' d hidden in Tiffany's room months ago, after suspecting her of snooping. It had a voice-activated recorder.

I retrieved it. Checked the recordings.

There it was. Tiffany, frantic.

"She didn't drink it, Chad! She poured it out! What do we do now?"

Her voice was shrill, laced with panic.

Chad's voice, smooth, reassuring. "Relax, Tiff. We have other ways. We need her discredited before those SATs. Your mother is counting on this. That Yale spot, the Miller name... it all hinges on you being the top daughter."

Tiffany whined, "But her grades, Chad! She's always perfect! It' s the only thing standing between me and Mom getting everything we deserve from that old man!"

"Don't worry," Chad said, his tone chillingly casual. "My two years with Sarah? All part of the plan. She' ll break. We'll make sure of it."

My heart ached, a dull, familiar pain. But this time, anger hardened it.

Three extra days.

I had three extra days to prepare. Not just for the SATs, but for them.

I buried myself in my books, studying with an intensity I'd never known.

Then, a text. Anonymous.

"Watch your back. Don't trust anyone before the SATs."

Chad, I thought. Playing mind games.

I ignored it. For now.