Who Can Say...

Well, well, well. My parents have always known the truth, and they didn't say anything. Meanwhile, I had told them a bold-faced lie, which they pretended was the truth. I thought I was some kind of lying wizard. I really need to work on that part.

The only reason I didn't realize the obvious back then was because I didn't care. But now that I do, I feel bad. I sighed. I'll deal with my parents later. Right now, it's time to get that $23,000 from Sarah.

I searched for Sarah at Instagram and found her. And oh gosh, she's really more famous than the dead girl—me. Going through her Instagram, I learned she's a model with over 100,000 followers.

"Wait a minute, wasn't Sarah studying to be a financial something back then? What happened? Could she model and study at the same time?"

I doubted it. Not if Sarah was still the same. All she ever cared about was money because it was the one thing she grew up lacking. The model part didn't surprise me—she'd been praised for her looks since we were ten.

But she didn't like it when people only saw her pretty face, especially since it usually attracted creeps who didn't care that she was fourteen while they looked thirty.

Still, so much can change. This might work in my favor. I was planning to use my dead girl image, but now, using a model might benefit me more. With Sarah being a model, I could use her to attract attention. Then it would all depend on Heather's designer skills.

I opened my contacts and found Sarah. I took a breath, staring at my phone for a second. I hadn't spoken to her in a long time, and I could already imagine how she'd react.

After steeling my nerves, I hit the call button. The ringing started, and my heart raced in sync with it. One ring... two rings... three—click.

"Hello? Who's this?"

"Hey, I—"

Beep.

I blinked and glanced at the screen that now read Call Ended. Seriously? Well, it was obvious she deleted my number but didn't block me. And when she heard my voice… well the rest is history.

I couldn't blame her. I'd probably do the same in her position—actually, I would've blocked her. But I'm glad she's kinder than me.

I hit redial and waited. One ring, two rings, click.

"Hi! I just wanted to—"

Beep.

Did she really just answer only to hang up again? What are we, in elementary school? I tried again, and this time I was ready. Before it could even ring twice, the call connected.

"Bitc—"

Beep.

Though I didn't get to finish the word, I knew it would get her attention. Sure enough, my phone started ringing. I knew it. I answered, but before I could speak—

"Who are you calling bitch, you inconsiderate, cocksucking, balls-deep-in-your-father's-ass motherfucker?"

That went on for fifteen minutes, with me barely breathing. Some of those cusses I had never heard before, and the ones I had heard were on a whole new level.

Well, at least one thing hadn't changed: Sarah. She always had a foul mouth, and it seems she's upgraded her skill set to a whole new league.

"Are you still there, bitch?" she asked, realizing she'd been ranting to herself the whole time.

"I don't know, you tell me. People certainly seem to think I'm not."

"Oh, so you finally took the time to check your Instagram. Is that why you called? To bitch and moan about how sad you are?"

"No, I just want us to meet and talk."

Sarah was quiet for a while, and I had to check if she'd hung up again. But no, she was still there—I could hear faint breathing.

"And why would I do that? Let's not forget, you ghosted me. After all this time, you think you can waltz back into my life, and everything will be like it used to be? Fuck you."

I knew this would be difficult. How should I proceed? Oh…

"We'll go to the mall, and I'll buy you anything you want."

"Anything?"

"Anything," I affirmed.

"You'll regret that. I'm going to make you suffer for ghosting me. You'll be my slave, ha...ha...ha..."

"Ugh, you still do those cringe maniacal laughs? Grow up."

"I only do them with my best friend," she spat, her teeth practically grinding through the phone. I cringed, realizing how much I'd hurt her. I needed to fix this somehow.

"Look, Sara—"

"It's fine, Eva. Despite what you may think, I'm not mad at you anymore. After all, you're just the past. Anyway, tomorrow at 12:30, meet me at Fallgates Mall. We'll talk, and after that, we'll go our separate ways. Clear?"

Beep.

Before I could respond, she ended the call. I sat there with a blank face, replaying her words. Just the past, huh? I guess I am. But if Sarah thinks I'm giving up on her that easily like last time, she's in for a disappointment.

I'm a bad person, I won't deny that. I pretend to be some kind of saint, but only when it suits me. Still, that doesn't mean I don't care—especially about Sarah.

If anything ever happened to her, I'd be there in a heartbeat.

'Would you, though? Were you there for Dawn?'

A self-deprecating thought crept in, uninvited. It's been haunting me for a while now, coming from a dark place.

I shook my head and decided to compile a spreadsheet for myself. It detailed everything I needed to do—making amends with my past, upgrading my system, plans for when I'm more proficient with my ability, Heather's dream, Sarah's dream if she lets me back in her life. Maybe even Dawn's dream, one day.

Sure, reaching the top is my current goal, but that doesn't mean I can't do meaningful things along the way. I'm starting to realize I don't like being as alone as I thought.

As I finished up, Heather walked back in, still wearing her slutty dress. She brought groceries with her.

When I raised an eyebrow, she shrugged, a smile plastered on her face. "I thought I'd make you something special to thank you for the fabrics."

She unloaded the groceries onto the counter, and I watched as she started washing her hands.

I closed my laptop and went to help her. A thought occurred to me—it was time for Heather and me to really get to know each other. And what better time than while preparing a meal together?

As I washed my hands, I asked, "What can I help you with?"

"Do you know how to handle an onion?" she asked.

"I recall being able to do that much, but it's been a while, so who knows?"

"Is that a joke?" She was caught between a chuckle and uncertainty.

"Who can say..."