Chapter 2

Em tried to ignore Britt' s strange words, tried to tell herself it was all just bad luck, coincidences.

But the coincidences kept happening.

"She's just a kid, Em," Tom Carter would say, ruffling Em's hair when she voiced her unease. "Kids say silly things."

Susan Carter was less dismissive. She' d seen Sharon Evans' s competitive streak up close for years.

"That Sharon," Susan would sigh, kneading dough for bread, her movements a little more forceful than usual. "She's always had to be the queen bee."

The rivalry between the mothers was Oakhaven legend.

Sharon Evans, with her perfectly manicured nails and clothes that always seemed a bit too fancy for their town, versus Susan Carter, in her practical jeans and warm smile, whose garden was the envy of the neighborhood without any fuss.

Bake-offs, school fundraising, even whose roses bloomed first – Sharon turned everything into a competition, a way to one-up Susan.

Older folks whispered that Mark Evans had once tried to date Susan, long before she met Tom. And that Sharon had always had a thing for Tom Carter, a quiet, steady man who only had eyes for Susan.

Maybe that' s where the bitterness started, festering over years, passed down like a tainted heirloom.

Britt wasn't just a child caught in the crossfire; she was Sharon' s primary weapon.

"Brittany, darling, did you see Emily got the lead in the school play? You should try out next year, you have so much more natural stage presence," Sharon would say loudly at the school gates, just within earshot of Susan and Em.

Britt would stand beside her mother, absorbing the pressure, the expectations.

Em remembered Britt as a younger child, often looking anxious, desperate for her mother' s approval. If Sharon praised her, Britt would beam. If Sharon criticized, Britt' s face would crumple.

But as they got older, especially after that day by the swingset, something in Britt shifted. The anxiety hardened into a strange kind of confidence, a chilling certainty.

She stopped trying to please her mother in the same way. Instead, she seemed focused on something else, something only she understood.

Em would see Britt watching her during class, not with envy, but with an unnerving, analytical gaze.

Like Em was a puzzle Britt had already solved.

One afternoon, after Em won the county spelling bee, a modest achievement but one she was proud of, Britt found her by her locker.

"That trophy," Britt said, nodding at the small, gold-colored plastic cup Em held. "It was supposed to be mine, you know. In the original script."

"Original script? Britt, what are you talking about?" Em asked, confused and a little scared.

Britt just shook her head. "Doesn't matter. I'm fixing it."

Her eyes, usually a flat blue, seemed darker, more intense.

Em felt a shiver. This wasn't just childish rivalry anymore. Britt genuinely believed Em was living a life that belonged to her.

Em tried to focus on her schoolwork, on her dreams of getting a scholarship, of maybe, just maybe, being one of the few who could make a good life even if Oakhaven kept fading.

She had to. It was the only way she knew to fight whatever strange darkness Britt Evans was trying to cast over her.