Another police investigation. More questions are asked of me.

Did I know Will Renner? Have I ever seen him before?

No, no I have never seen him before.

Have I heard that name before? Did you know that he attended Eralyn Academy?

No, I didn't even know he existed.

He doesn't exist anymore.

Why were you at the Arboretum?

It was for a school project. We were trying to finish a map for my AP Euro class.

Why work outside?

Hannah thought it would be beneficial for our mental states. You know, instead of being cooped up in a library.

Isn't it a bit cold to work outside?

Yes, it is.

Why weren't you with the rest of your groupmates?

We took a break. I just felt like stretching my legs and going for a walk. I never thought... I never imagined...

It's too much for me to bear, to relive. The police's question pound into my skull with every passing second, melding and twisting with my own spiraling, panicked thoughts. I burst into sobs, burying my face in my hands during the car ride home.

"Oh, sweetie!" Mom says. With one hand still on the steering wheel, she places the other one around my shoulders. "I can't believe this happened to you."

Unspoken between us is the word "again." It happened again, for the second time. It may even be the third time, if the nightmare means more than being simply a dream.

It happened twice. Either I'm officially a serial killer, or the dream foretold this second death.

***

I don't get to miss as much school this time. Though the school administration and the principal sympathize with me, they also say that they have standards to uphold for education. If I do not feel like I can continue attending classes, I need to file for a leave of absence and return next fall. After discussing it with Mom, we both decide that it is probably better to just go ahead and finish classes rather than put off graduation and get a year behind.

So here I am, struggling to focus on Wednesday in all my classes. At least we got an extension on our history project, and my other group members promised to finish it without me. Technically speaking, my part with the mountain chains and significant events relating to them was already completed on Saturday.

The hard metal stools in the chemistry lab are cold on my bare thighs. My pleated white skirt only covers them halfway, and I wriggle deeper into my cropped gray hoodie to stay warm.

"Now, you're going to take your pipette and drop several droplets of the solution inside the test tube."

I'm lucky that Kayla from my special abilities class is my lab partner. She's super good at sciency kind of things. With practiced, steady hands, she drops three drops of the clear liquid inside the test tube. The fiery red liquid inside changes to an electric blue.

The teacher drones on about the chemical reaction. I should be paying attention, but I'm not. All I can think about is the dream I had last night. It was the same one I had a week prior. Every time I think about it, it sends shivers down my spine. I'll have to talk to Amber next Tuesday about what recurring dreams mean.

"And now, you can complete experiment three on your own. Record your results in your lab workbook and submit it in the online classroom by 11:59 p.m. Sunday night."

Kayla rolls her eyes, dragging herself upright after leaning her chin on her elbow on the lab table. "Great. We love weekend homework."

"I can send you the data if you want. Then we don't have to take time to write it down."

Kayla's face brightens. "Sure!"

We complete the experiment, Kayla dropping the droplets into each pipette while I record the data she calls out. After a few minutes, Kayla pauses, glancing between the instructions pulled up on her laptop and the various solutions in test tubes spread out in front of her.

"This is why I hate missing class," she grumbles.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't remember which result indicates which classification. Didn't the professor give us the color code for this in the first week of class?" I nod. "Yeah, I can't remember which is which. He talked about that on the day I had a doctor's appointment." Her back and chest deflate with a sigh. "Can I see your notes?"

"Sure." I grab my backpack sitting on the chair beside me and rummage through it. I see a pink folder for English, blue for math, purple spiral and folder for euro...

"Shoot," I murmur. I guess this is why most students take notes on their computers. For me, it helps me more to write by hand. The info sticks better in my brain that way.

"What's wrong?" Kayla leans over.

"I totally forgot my notebook at home."

Kayla sighs. "Maybe we can ask another lab group." we both glance around at the neighboring tables, all deep in concentration... or deeply staring at the phone hidden behind notebooks, or playing games on their computers with the screens angled toward them, as if that prevents the all eagle-eyed teacher from seeing it.

"Wait, I think you sent the notes to me," Kayla says. She grabs her phone. A moment later, she proudly shows me the screenshot I took of the lab key. I glance over the lab key to finish filling in the information I need.

My eyes drift to the upper right hand corner of the screen. It says ten-fifteen p.m. beside it there is a heart shaped icon, though there aren't any other notifications.

My brow furrows. Wait, what day was that? I pull out my own phone while Kayla continues the lab. I open my photo gallery to find the screenshot. The date on it was from Tuesday, the same day when I first got the notification from the app about the date. But I swear I cleared all my notifications after I got the notification. I remember seeing it at five in the afternoon, while Mom and I were at the cafe. And I had a lot of other notifications as well. I had to have cleared them all when I got home, before taking the screenshot, otherwise the other notifications would've shown up in the bar.

But I always hit clear all when that happens. How is it that this notification wasn't cleared?

Unless it was a new notification from the app. But that doesn't make sense because when I disabled all notifications, it was only set to notify me if I had a date or message from another person.

I click out of the gallery. Taking a deep breath, I reopen the dating app. That's when I see it — the message sent to me from another account. Three chat sections are available now, and one has an unread message.

My throat goes dry. My hands tremble slightly, but I ignore the new messages in favor of the message chat with Evan. He didn't message me until Wednesday morning, unless he deleted his message.

I try deleting a message, but there's no option to do so. I even go into the settings of the app to figure it out, but when I go to the help page, it tells me that there's no way to delete messages.

Make sure you think twice before sending anything because messages can not be deleted.

I start to lean back, but almost lose my balance when I realize that there's no back to the stool. Instead, I lean forward, propping my head up in my hands.

"Is everything okay?" Kayla asks. "You seem kind of... frantic."

"Yeah, I'm fine." I glance at her. She's staring at me, empty pipette in hand. She places it down, her eyes drifting to the clock. "The bell is about to ring. Let's get packed up."

"Are we done?" I ask. Kayla nods.

We clean the pipettes, trays, test tubes, and other equipment, safely disposing of chemicals in the designated spots and putting stuff away in cabinets. After we are done, the bell chimes through the hallway. I sling my backpack over my shoulders and leave, clutching my phone tightly between my fingers.

I walk down the hallway to the Geometry classroom. Students funnel out, and I wait for the coast to clear before hurrying inside to my desk right by the door. I swing myself into the conjoined chair-and-desk, my thumbs flying across the screen to input my passcode.

SoulDate pops up again. This time, I click on the one unread message.

My breath lodges in my throat. Fear pounds in my heart.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Blood is rushing so loud, I can barely hear or process the other students entering around. My vision tunnels around the screen.

There are messages, so many messages, between me and the anonymous second match. My eyes go impossibly wide, and I feel a scream building inside of me.

Not now! Why now?

Why did this discovery have to come now of all times?

I bite my lip to keep from crying out. There are messages, back and forth, between me and the match. Some are flirty, some are downright cringing, but they're from my account.

I don't even remember typing them. I don't remember opening this darn chat, or the app, since I was notified of the match. Did the app do this itself? Is there a miniature ghost inside of it, trying to ruin my life?

Or is this just another instance of me blacking out, just like in the auditorium?

What have I done?

I feel frantic, but force myself to take deep breaths. In and out, in and out.

My thumb freezes at the bottom of the screen. The fourth to last message reads:

How about I meet you at the arboretum this Saturday? We can meet there at eleven a.m., then maybe go somewhere for lunch. I can drive ;)

To which I reply:

Sure ;) ;)

Would I seriously double winky face someone?

I don't know. My head is spinning too fast.

Cool. See you then. ;) ;) ;)

Fear is spiking in my veins. Arboretum. Saturday. Eleven in the morning.

I was there. I was there at that time, and I discovered a boy there in a place he shouldn't have been.

He was lying face down in the dirt — dead.

No, no, no, no, no!

Panic is crashing through me. The bell blares, and I jump in my seat, a yelp escaping my lips.

"You good?" a voice asks behind me.

No, I'm not good. I'm terrified, panicked, frantic! What is happening to me?

My eyes fall on the very last message.

Yo, you gonna stand me up? It's been, like, ten minutes.

The message was sent at eleven-fourteen. It's the very last message between the two of us. I can't process it anymore. My brain has short circuited. The teacher walks into the room in slow motion, mouth moving. His words are all sucked in a tunnel so they're distorted.

My head spins, and the world goes black.