Chapter 2

Jessica's POV

"Dad, what do you mean, faking it?" Amy set her spoon down. "Is Jessica downstairs?"

Sarah didn't miss a beat. She forced a warm smile. "No, sweetie. Your dad's just talking about a rat we caught in the kitchen today. Jessica isn't home."

"Then where is she?" Amy's brow furrowed. "Nationals are tomorrow. She literally danced her toenails off for this. She wouldn't just stay out all night."

Sarah scoffed.

"Oh, come on, Amy. You know how your sister is." She tucked the blanket tighter around Amy's shoulders. "She's selfish. She knows your big day is tomorrow, so she's playing ghost just to make it all about her."

"But—"

Amy tried to argue, before David cut in.

"Look, Amy," he smoothed her hair, his tone stern. "Your only job right now is to sleep. That psychic warned us—Jessica is a jinx. If she steps foot in that competition, it's going to put you right back in the hospital."

He glared at the floorboards, eyes dead cold. "Honestly? Even if she freezes to death on the streets tonight, I couldn't care less. As long as you're safe."

I hovered near the ceiling in dead silence.

What he didn't know was that I did freeze to death. Not on the streets, but right downstairs. In the freezer he locked himself.

Not that it mattered. Dead was dead. To them, it made zero difference.

Ding-dong.

Sarah pulled the front door open. It was Luke.

Luke used to be my childhood best friend, and he was Amy's classmate. He stood on the porch holding a thermos, a few early winter snowflakes dusting his blonde hair.

"Evening, Mrs. Austin," Luke smiled. He walked in and handed the thermos to Amy. "Hey, Amy. My mom made you some beef stew. Break a leg tomorrow."

"Thanks, Luke," Amy smiled sweetly.

Luke scanned the room, frowning.

"Is Jessica still not back?" He held up his phone. "I mean, I've texted her a dozen times and called five. Straight to voicemail. That is so not like her."

I hovered there, just staring at him.

Luke used to be my only lifeline in this suffocating house.

When my parents screamed at me for outscoring Amy, I'd hide in the backyard and cry. He was the one who'd hop the fence and sneak me a chocolate bar. He'd wipe my tears, look me dead in the eye, and swear, "Jessica, screw them. You're the best. I'm always gonna be on your side."

So when did that change?

Six months ago. Amy insisted on watching my studio practice, only to clutch her chest and collapse on the floor. My parents went completely ballistic in the hospital hallway, pointing their fingers in my face, screaming that I was trying to kill her.

Luke was standing right there in the corner. He watched David slap me across the face... and did nothing. He didn't step up.

Instead, for the very first time, he looked at me with pure disgust.

From that day on, he bought their sick narrative. He genuinely believed I was some attention-seeking monster, perfectly fine with sucking my sister dry just for a piece of the spotlight.

I used to feel so wronged. I used to beg and explain myself. But now? Looking at him, I felt absolutely nothing.

I was dead. I didn't have to prove my innocence to anyone ever again.

"Ugh, let's drop it, Luke," Sarah rolled her eyes. "She probably realized she can't steal the show tomorrow, so she's off throwing a pity party somewhere. She loves pulling this silent treatment crap."

Luke sighed, shaking his head. "God, she's always like this. It's always about her. Amy kills herself prepping for Nationals, and Jessica can't even offer one word of encouragement. Instead, she goes MIA to stir up drama."

"Luke, come on, don't say that..." Amy murmured.

"Amy, you're just too nice." Luke's voice softened. "You always put her first, and what does she do? She just bleeds you dry like a leech. Mr. Austin is one hundred percent right. Someone that vain and selfish doesn't even deserve to be on a stage."

I drifted in mid-air, listening to the boy who swore to protect me tear me to shreds.

A leech? Selfish? Doesn't deserve it?

I wasn't even angry. Honestly, it was funny.

Luke, if you could just look through these floorboards right now... if you could see my frozen, stiff body down in that freezer... would you still think I was 'pulling a stunt'?

It got late. Luke finally said his goodbyes and headed out.

Sarah and David tucked Amy in, then headed back to the living room. David strolled over to the wet bar, poured two fingers of whiskey, and knocked it back.

"David," Sarah walked over, a sliver of hesitation in her voice. "You don't think the brat is actually gonna get hurt down there, do you? I mean... it is a walk-in freezer."

David barked a laugh.

"What's gonna happen? The machine's been busted for years. The power's cut." He glanced at the basement door, eyes dead cold. "It's a little chilly down there, that's all. Let her freeze her ass off for one night. It'll knock some sense into her, maybe stop her from trying to put her sister in an early grave."

"Fair point," Sarah let out a breath, a mocking smirk on her lips. "She's always putting on a show anyway. I bet you anything she's pressed right up against that door, practically holding her breath, waiting for us to come crawling down and beg her to come out."

I drifted down until I was face-to-face with Sarah. Mere inches away.

Mom, I whispered, staring dead into her eyes. I'm not putting on a show. And I'm never gonna hear you beg.

I'm already dead.

She couldn't hear me, obviously. Nobody could see the pale ghost I had become.

But right then, she shivered violently, clutching her shawl tight against her chest.

"Jesus, why is it freezing in here all of a sudden?" she muttered, rubbing her arms as she turned to David. "Go crank up the thermostat. We absolutely cannot let Amy catch a chill."