ol. I had to pretend to be the old Ava, grateful and unsuspect

pting the Atherton scholarship in my place, a tearful speech about her "poor, troubled friend." I saw

meline, a drunken confession Chloe had made to

rts out of the equation. You get the baby, the connection to the father, without

lan to use my body and destroy my life for her own gain. The rage was so potent it alm

group of us were studying in the library, and a girl

" she said, leaning in for a

I said, loud enough for Chloe

"It' s an old family piece. It' s suppos

that," Sarah said wistfully.

ough my anger. It was a long shot

in a dusty corner: a locket, almost identical in size and shape to the cursed one. The design was simpler, a cheap floral pattern instead of the intricate vin

cursed locket and removed it from its chain. My skin crawled at the touch of it, a cold, dead weight in my hand. I wrapped it

little water and carefully painted it into the grooves of the floral pattern, wiping away the excess to mimic the tarnish of old silve

roof that I was healthy, that my body was my own. When the results came back two days later, they were completely normal. No hormonal anomal

ready to go out, Chloe' s eyes

eap metal. "Is it working?" she asked, a predatory

y face neutral. "I think so.

spine. She was looking at the fake, convinced her plan was i

ck to her mirror. "Just keep

t it wouldn't be me wearing t