Chapter 1

The air in the Peterson' s mansion was thick with the smell of money and expensive perfume.

It felt heavy in my lungs.

Everywhere I looked, I saw fake smiles and heard loud, empty laughter.

Tiffany Peterson, the queen of our school, stood on a makeshift stage in her backyard, a glass of champagne in her hand.

She wore a white dress that probably cost more than my dad' s car.

Behind her, a massive banner read: "Congratulations to our Valedictorian of the Year, Tiffany Peterson! SAT Perfect Score: 1600!"

"I just want to thank everyone for coming to celebrate with me," Tiffany said into the microphone, her voice smooth and practiced.

"It wasn't easy, but I knew I could do it. A perfect score, can you believe it?"

The crowd of students, parents, and teachers erupted in applause.

They believed it.

They ate up every word she said.

My classmates worshipped her.

"She's amazing," a girl next to me whispered to her friend. "Beautiful, rich, and a genius. She has everything."

"I know, right? I wish I was her."

I saw Mr. Thompson, our guidance counselor, standing near the front.

He clapped harder than anyone.

He was beaming, looking at Tiffany like she was a winning lottery ticket.

"A truly exceptional student," he had told my parents during a meeting last week. "Tiffany is the best this school has ever seen. She's going to an Ivy League, no question."

He had looked at me with pity.

I was just Sarah Miller, the quiet girl with good grades who sat in the back of the class.

I stood in the shadows at the edge of the perfectly manicured lawn, a plastic cup of lukewarm soda in my hand.

The green grass felt like a different world from my family' s small, worn-out apartment.

I watched Tiffany soak in the adoration, and a cold, familiar ache started in my chest.

It was a memory, sharp and ugly, pushing its way to the surface.

This exact scene had played out before.

The same party.

The same banner.

The same lie.

I remembered it all.

I remembered every condescending smile, every cruel whisper, every moment of the nightmare that followed.

In that other life, a life that ended in darkness and despair, I had pitied her.

I had thought she was just insecure, just a girl desperate for approval.

Now, I knew better.

Tiffany Peterson wasn't insecure.

She was a monster hiding behind a pretty face.

And this time, I wasn't here to be her victim.

I was here to watch her burn.

Because I knew the truth.

I knew she didn't get a 1600.

She got a 480.

A score so low it was almost impressive.

And me?

I got a 1580.

I watched her raise her glass for a toast, her face glowing under the party lights.

For the first time in a very, very long time, a real smile touched my lips.

It was a small, sharp smirk that no one else could see.

This was going to be fun.