“Oh, come on Sara,” Dylan says, holding the cigarette out tauntingly to me.

“I don’t know,” I say, sitting on the hood of his car, his hand on my leg.

“Don’t be such a killjoy.”

“It’s fun.”

“You’ll like it.”

They all go around and say their pieces. I feel the peer pressure weighing down on me and for once I don’t care.

I reach out for it and he hands it to me with a laugh. I move to put it to my lips and I’m stopped by the sounds of a siren.

“S***,” I exclaim calmly, my tone not betraying how excited I am.

About five minutes later I’m arrested and in the back of a police car. Who gets arrested for smoking a cigarette before they’re eighteen? No one but a cop kid, apparently.

Only an hour later, I’m bailed out by my mom. She just looks at me and shakes her head.

“We’ll talk about this later,” she says and stalks away like she always does.

I make my way to the front of the police station, trying to ignore the eyes of all the officers I’ve known since I was little.

I nearly burst out in tears when I see Willow waiting for me. She wraps her arm around my waist and leads me protectively out of the station.

“Thank you,” I say as we walk down the dark street.

She nods.

“How did you know,” I ask.

“I asked the officers to call me if ever you got in trouble. Mom almost wasn’t going to bail you out. I convinced her otherwise.”

“How,” I ask.

“I know some dirty secrets from snooping around.”

“Show me,” I beg.

She must have heard the desperate tone in my voice because she nods. “You’re not going to like it, though.”

An hour later, I find out that I do not like it. I’m mad enough that it erases my guilt for getting arrested.

“You’re not my sister.”

“Not fully,” Willow says, staring out the dark window.

Before I can say anything else, the door slams shut. I look at Willow in a panic- I am in so much trouble.

“Don’t tell Dad. He doesn’t know,” Willow tells me urgently.

“Stay with me,” I beg.

She nods and the paper disappears.

“You got arrested? Smoking,” mom shrieks, running into the kitchen.

I just nod.

“That is unacceptable!”

“So the only time you notice me is when I get arrested?”

“Willow, go to your room!”

“No,” she says quietly, but it’s so firm and shocking that Mom doesn’t even argue with her.

“You’re going to rehab,” mom says.

“No,” I scream. “I didn’t even smoke it! I was just holding it!”

“She was,” Willow says.

“I don’t care what you think, Willow! She is going to rehab! But first, you’re going to be tried and you will carry out you sentence.”

“Mom,” I say.

But she doesn’t hear me.

“Three months of rehabilitation,” is what the judge sentenced me to. Later, I found out from Willow that the judge was one of mom’s friends and I got the sentence she wanted me to get. That should piss me off, but I’m too tired to care.

Besides, rehab isn’t so bad.

There are a few nice people here. The rest are druggies like I supposedly was and somehow still get their high from the outside world.

Which isn’t something that I get too much of. Family and friends-approved by family- are allowed to come once a week. Other than that, I get no cell phone, no internet, and no TV. I’m completely cut off.

But that’s good for me, the “nurse” explained when she saw the look of utter horror that must have been plastered across my face.

I almost didn’t believe them. But that was before everyone there swarmed to me for news of the outside world, which family isn’t supposed to talk about.

I was the most popular person there for all of three days. After that, I faded into the background, and I let myself. The people who were most noticed were the ones who got caught getting high or drunk, or the suicidal.

Since I’m neither, I thought it might be good for me to stay out of the spotlight and focus on shaving some time off my sentence.

On the fifth day, I made a friend. Her name is Rebecca and she was once suicidal. She told me she had tried to kill herself with sleeping pills but now everyone acts like she isn’t there.

She helped me take down the “bad girl” named Clarissa. Rebecca gave me all the dirt on her, including who she was sleeping with-multiple people.

After that, rumors went flying. The best part is that no one could trace them back to me since I acted like I had heard them myself.

Now, she’s the slut of rehab, and she doesn’t bother me.

My rehab group is small- there are only twenty of us. Ten of us are guys- I don’t understand the logic behind putting even number boys and girls in a building together and telling us to spend months together.

The walls are white, the floor is white, the furniture is white, and our clothes are white. Everything appears to be bleached hourly because not one speck of dirt ever shows on anything.

Even the chair I’m sitting in now is pure white, the metal reflecting the white. Rebecca is right behind me, pretending she isn’t there. No one seems to care, either; she does what she wants whenever she wants to.

Mom walks in and I find myself stiffen drastically. There’s something in her face that makes me want to hide.

“Hey,” I greet my voice quiet.

“I’ll cut right to the chase. You aren’t going to come home. You’re a bad influence for Willow and I don’t want her to turn out like you.”

“Like me,” I hiss.

“You got arrested,” she says flatly. “There’s this great boarding school we found called Lavender Academy. What’s more, Willow will not be visiting you in here. For all purposes, you’re dead to her.”

“Thank you for telling me,” I say, automatically.

“I don’t believe you’re grateful.”

“I’m not! I was trying to be diplomatic. But couldn’t you at least wait until we were alone?”

I gesture to Rebecca.

“What are you on? There’s no one there,” she tells me and slams the door on her way out.

Rebecca smiles a knowing smile and runs away, leaving me to follow.

“You have a visitor,” a nurse tells me, knocking on my open door.

“It isn’t anyone I want to see,” I say, looking up at the glaringly white ceiling that I’ve come to hate.

“You can skip an activity if you talk to her,” the nurse says, begging me to get some interaction with anyone after my week of solitude- I even ignored Rebecca.

I stand up and follow her dejectedly to the visitors’ center.

“Willow,” I scream when I see the blob of black in the perfect white.

“You never change,” she says with a smile.

I run up and hug her and she whispers in my ear, “If Mom finds out I was here, she’ll kill me.”

I nod and we sit, waiting until all but Rebecca have left.

“How are things?”

“Okay,” I shrug.

“That’s doubtful.”

“Did Mom tell you about her decision?”

“No,” she says, looking hesitant.

“She doesn’t want us to ever see each other again. She’s not going to let me come home and she said she won’t let you visit. When I’m out of here, I’m going to some boarding school!”

“That is not good.”

Her eyes trail to Rebecca and she looks even paler for a second.

“Oh, this is my friend, Rebecca,” I introduce.

“Sara, there’s no one there,” she says and I don’t like the look in her eye.

“Are you saying I’m crazy,” I snap at her.

“No, I’m saying you’re seeing things. I-”

“I can’t believe you,” I say and storm out exactly like mom would have.


Later, when I’m getting ready for bed, Rebecca is there.

“Why does everyone say they can’t see you,” I ask.

“Because they can’t. I didn’t just try to commit suicide. I actually succeeded.

“Whatever,” I snort.

She raises her hand-very deliberately- and smacks me. Or at least, she should. Her hand goes straight through me.

I can feel my mouth drop and my eyes pop open. I can’t stop staring at her still-raised hand she’s flexing and relaxing.

“So you’re a ghost,” I ask.

“No, ghosts can’t make contact with anything. I’m a wraith, meaning I can mess with the energy of objects, which is basically what humans do. Wraiths have the option of making themselves intangible, too.”

“Oh,” I say, nodding my head like she isn’t crazy.

“I thought your sister could see me for a second there,” she informs me. “But I don’t think she’s a seer of the dead like you.”

I nod again, my breathing starting to get fast.

“She is a seer, though. It must be in your blood.”

I remember how almost overnight she suddenly changed. Her eyes were always unfocused for a while and she was staring off into space. She got so quiet and moody. I wonder if she really is a seer.

Or maybe I’m just crazy. Maybe Willow is crazy. Maybe it’s crazy that runs in our blood.

“So don’t ghosts float,” I ask, trying to distract myself.

“I told you, I’m not a ghost. Ghosts can float a few inches off the ground but wraiths are stuck on the ground. But we can jump super high.”

I brush my hair a little too hard and wince; she looks offended.

“So if ghosts are real are vampires and werewolves real, too?”

“Of course they are, silly,” she says, shaking her head at me like I just asked a really stupid question.

“Okay.”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here. The market for seers is up. I guess everyone wants to know what the other side is going to do. Even people who see the past are in demand. I’m on the rebel side, and I’ve been asked to recruit you.”

“No thank you,” I barely choke out.

“It’s too late. I’ve already told them about you. They’ll be here in the morning. I’m going to tell them about your sister, too.”

Before I can respond, she runs through the wall.

I stare in the mirror at myself. For once, I’m almost as pale as Willow is. My blue eyes are unfocused and crazy.

Willow is a seer. Maybe that’s what she was going to tell me earlier. No, she’s just crazy. I am crazy. We’re all crazy.

A hysterical giggle bursts through my lips. I bit down on my lip hard enough to draw blood. This is not funny. Me going insane is not funny.

My eyes travel over the pristine white counter with a few spots of blue toothpaste on it now. A drop of red lands on it and I remember I bit my lip.

I do not think I can do this. I do not think I can survive anymore. My heart has been broken more times than I can count and I don’t think it ever fully healed.

I grab the first sharp object I can find- my razor- and break it so there’s only one blade.

Do it, Sara, a deep male voice says in my head. Great, now I’m hearing voices.

I breathe deeply and slash it across my wrist before I can change my mind. I do the same to my other wrist.

My vision goes spotty and I close my eyes, letting the black envelope me.

I’m sorry, Willow, I think as even my mind feels foggy.


When I awake, I see Willow staring at me. No, at the body on the floor- my body. What’s going on?

I turn to look in a mirror, but I don’t see anything. After a while, I can see my form take shape in front of the bathroom. I know without Rebecca having to tell me that I’m a ghost.

“Yes, that’s Sara,” Willow says, her voice broken.

“Willow,” I scream.

But she doesn’t hear me.