Chapter 3

Quiana stood beside Mom, daintily sipping her honey water with a faint smirk playing on her lips.

She cast a glance toward where I lay, her eyes gleaming with undisguised mockery.

A few bugs crawled across my face. I wanted so desperately to reach up and brush them away, but my body remained leaden and motionless.

Finally, the physical fitness test came to an end.

Mom dismissed the class, her face lighting up as she beckoned Quiana and the other student leaders over. "Come on, everyone worked hard today! Lunch is on me at the cafeteria to celebrate everyone finishing the fitness test!"

A boisterous group of students surrounded her as they headed off toward the cafeteria.

Not a single soul spared me a second glance. I was simply forgotten, left alone in the corner of the field.

I drifted along behind them.

Inside the cafeteria, the air was thick with the savory aroma of food.

Mom picked out the largest piece of braised pork and dropped it into Quiana's bowl.

"Quiana is such a thoughtful girl," Mom praised. "Not like some people who have no sense of the bigger picture and only know how to stir up trouble."

Quiana gave a sugary-sweet smile. "Thank you, Ms. Wright. But Yvonne… she probably just wasn't feeling well. Please don't be mad at her."

"Me? Mad at her?" Mom scoffed. "Why would I waste my breath? She's been spoiled rotten by that deadbeat father of hers. She's all drama and does nothing but embarrass me day in and day out!"

Just then, the phone in her pocket rang.

She answered it with an annoyed huff, only to find it was the school clinic.

"Ms. Wright, has the student who fainted been brought in yet? We've been waiting for her."

"No, and don't bother!" Mom snapped. "She fainted from low blood sugar and is lying out on the field. She's not going to die. Stop making a mountain out of a molehill."

With that, she hung up.

I stared at the glistening plate of braised pork on the table. It used to be my absolute favorite.

I reached out, trying to grab just one piece, but my fingers passed straight through it.

I couldn't touch anything. I couldn't feel anything.

Mom was still venting. "Honestly, how did I end up giving birth to someone like her? She's nothing but a headache. If she were even half as well-behaved as Quiana, I'd be laughing in my sleep."

The meal ended amid cheerful laughter.

…

When school let out that afternoon, Mom walked out of the building with a few other teachers, handbag in tow.

As she reached the edge of the track, she finally seemed to remember something.

She frowned, making her way toward me with obvious reluctance.

"Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath. "Still sleeping? Just wait until we get home. I'm going to give her a piece of my mind!"

She walked up to me and gave my leg a sharp kick. "Stop playing dead! Get up! We're going home!"

My body didn't budge. It had settled into a strange, eerie rigidity against the grass.

Her annoyance flared. She leaned down and reached for my arm to yank me up. "I'm telling you—"

Her voice cut off the instant her fingers brushed my skin. It was a coldness and stiffness that didn't belong to the living.

She froze. Then, trembling, she held her fingers beneath my nose.

No breath.

In the next heartbeat, all the strength drained from her body, and she collapsed onto the ground.

A blood-curdling scream pierced the air, and the school doctor nearby came rushing over.

He knelt, peeled back my eyelids, checked my carotid pulse, and finally shook his head in defeat.

"Her pupils are fully dilated. It's too late."

He paused, his voice heavy. "Judging by the degree of rigor mortis, she's been dead for at least four hours."

"No!" Mom shrieked like a madwoman. "That's impossible! She's perfectly healthy! She's faking it! She's just trying to trick me!"

She threw herself onto me, frantically performing CPR. She pumped my cold chest with desperate force, but my body remained a hollow vessel.

"Yvonne! Get up right now! Do you hear me? Stop trying to scare me!"

A crowd of students who hadn't left yet began to gather, whispering in shock.

"Oh my god… She's actually dead."

"I knew something was wrong at noon, but her mom wouldn't even let us call 911."

"Her own mother literally drove her to death."

The piercing wail of sirens grew louder as police cars and ambulances approached.

The police set up a cordon, separating me from Mom's hysterical grief, as if we now belonged to two different worlds.

The medical examiner handed her a crumpled slip of paper, the indignation in his eyes barely contained.

"We found this in your daughter's pocket," he said grimly.