Chapter 4

That order was the last straw. Every look directed at me shifted from pity to hatred.

It wasn't just my classmates grinding their teeth—the students from the other classes looked ready to kill me too. Even the male instructors who had spoken up for me a minute earlier had gone cold.

In heat like this, everyone wanted to get off their feet as soon as possible.

One of the instructors, Kieran West, came over and tried to reason with me. "Isabelle, you need to have some sense of collective responsibility. More than a thousand freshmen are being forced to stand out here because of you. How can you live with yourself?"

But a second later, Kieran stumbled backward in terror and collapsed to the ground.

"Something's wrong with her!" he yelled. "Half her face looks like it's been cooked! How could she just lie there without moving? What if something's actually happened to her?"

He reached forward to check if I was breathing, but Roxanne barked at him to stop.

"This is why I say you're all pathetic," she said. "She's only playing dead because she knows you'll fall for it. Go on, touch her if you don't believe me. If she were really dead, she'd be cold by now."

Half-convinced, Kieran laid a hand on my arm and found it burning hot.

Instantly, humiliation washed over him. He scrambled to his feet and spat at me.

"And to think we were worried about you! You've got some nerve, pretending to be dead just to scare us. Ms. Sheldon was right. Someone like you needs to be taught a lesson."

The students in the surrounding formations were swept up in the anger, pointing at me and hurling curses.

"Bitch! You're screwing every single one of us over! Get up right now!"

"Ms. Sheldon holds herself to such high standards. How could someone like you possibly be her daughter? You're a disgrace to this entire college!"

"If you don't get up right now, we'll make the next four years a living hell for you!"

Surrounded by their vicious insults, I trembled in midair.

I wanted to get up too. But I was already dead.

Desperate, I drifted to Mom's office. She was inside, making chicken soup in a slow cooker.

A few professors passed the door and teased her.

"Ms. Sheldon, are you making soup to help Isabelle cool down again? She's so lucky to have such a thoughtful mother!"

Mom grumbled indignantly. "And yet she's down there right now, throwing a fit. Half an hour in the sun, and suddenly she's having an asthma attack. I've taken care of her all her life. Does she really think I can't tell when she's faking?"

The professor whose daughter had taken my place in the study-abroad program stepped in to smooth things over.

"Isabelle is sensible. If it weren't for her, my daughter would never have had the chance to go abroad and see the world! I heard that was the country Isabelle had always wanted to visit most, so please don't be too hard on her."

Mom shook her head in disappointment.

"That was her duty. As my daughter, she should understand that. After the scene she's caused today, how could anyone call her sensible?"

An uproar broke out downstairs, drawing the professors to the windows to see what was happening.

When Mom saw students from all over campus swarming around me, a flicker of pain crossed her eyes. Her first instinct was to rush downstairs.

But she stopped at the doorway, held back by something I couldn't fathom.

When the professors heard what the students were accusing me of and finally realized what was happening, the color drained from their faces.

"Ms. Sheldon, Isabelle has been lying on that scorching metal all this time. That's punishment enough. If the entire student body turns against her, how is she supposed to hold her head up around here for the next four years?"

Mom turned her face away. "After the divorce, I raised her on my own while the whole world pointed fingers at me. Lying there for a while and taking a few insults will teach her that special treatment won't get her through life. Otherwise, she'll turn out just like her deadbeat father—irresponsible and selfish."

I stared at the steam rising from the chicken soup, anxious and completely at a loss.

Mom, I wasn't being selfish. I was really dead!

Claire Fletcher, the campus medic, was always professional and composed, but she had heard enough. Realizing that Mom wouldn't budge, she could no longer stand by and ran downstairs herself.

She pushed through the crowd of students surrounding me. The moment she got a clear look at me, her knees nearly gave out.

Her heart sank as she stepped closer and reached down with a trembling hand to check my pulse.

A second later, her scream tore across the field.

"Something's wrong! Call an ambulance!"