Chapter 1

The day I died started out just like any other.

I woke up, stretched, and followed the same old routine. It might seem like OCD, but without it, I feel like everything would fall apart. Crawling out of bed, I made my way across my tiny college dorm room to the bathroom. I’m lucky I don’t have to share, or else my roommates would probably think I’m a little crazy for what I’m about to do.

Standing in front of the mirror, I ignored the mess of hair on top of my head and began my daily affirmations—something I picked up from a self-help seminar I took last year. It’s supposed to help me visualize my goals, something I desperately need after three years in college and not a single friend to show for it.

I stared at my reflection, messy as it was, and recited the words:

"My name is Kalani Moore. I’m a successful college student, and today I’m going to be bright, confident, caring, and assertive when needed. In the future, I’ll have my own business, a husband, three children, and a pug... or maybe two. Either way, I’m going to be happy."

This is how I like to begin my mornings. When my alarm rings at six, and I have to drag myself out of bed, I often forget why I'm doing any of this. The winter months are especially tough with the cold weather and early, dark nights. I can’t help but wish I were back on the warm Florida coast with my dad and friends.

Up here, all I have is my reflection, and even though I know it’s pathetic and maybe a little crazy, sometimes it feels like I’m one of those lonely budgie birds, staring at itself to ease the crushing isolation of being trapped in a cage alone. And honestly, college often feels like a cage.

That’s why I repeat my mantra. It’s my way of reminding myself why I made the decision to move up North and pursue this degree. There has to be something good waiting for me at the end of it all.

Once the mantra is done, I fix my hair, throw on some clothes, and head to the library to prepare for my seminars. This is my life now: work, eat, sleep, repeat. There are no parties, no fun, and definitely no boys. Relationships will come later—just like the pugs. Right now, my focus is on finishing my final year and getting the best degree I can.

I head straight to the library, knowing my first seminar is at eleven. The tutor for this class has a reputation for being tough on students, especially when it comes to grilling us about the assigned readings.

I’ve had a couple of classes with her already, and I’ve seen her extract answers from students who clearly didn’t have a clue. It was painful to watch, and it quickly became clear that the only way to survive her seminars was to either know the material inside out or not bother attending at all.

I walked to the Social Science Library, my usual spot for early morning study sessions. It was right in the middle of campus and looked like a place where things went to die. A huge, gloomy concrete cube that stood out like a sore thumb amidst the beautiful green campus grounds.

I once heard a rumor that it had been considered an architectural marvel forty years ago, but now, it just looked like a crumbling relic.

The inside wasn’t much better. Gray walls, gray carpet, and even gray plastic tables only added to the dreariness of the place. It wasn’t exactly the most inspiring environment to study in, but it was all I had.

As I entered, I passed the same librarian I had seen every morning for the last three years. You’d think she might crack a smile after all this time, but instead, she did what she always did—ignored me. I made my way to my usual desk and, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted someone—Gina Harris.

Gina was one of those girls who never really grew up after high school. She viewed the world as a constant popularity contest and believed it was her divine duty to roam the campus, pointing out every student fashion faux pas to her chosen followers.

I did my best to steer clear of her, like I would with the plague... but, much like the plague, Gina was hard to escape.

I hurried past her, keeping my eyes focused on the floor, but of course, she noticed me.

"Hey Moore, come here!" she called out.

Gina had this annoying habit of calling everyone by their last name. I think she did it because using our first names might make us feel more human to her. So, instead, she stuck to labels like 'goth' or 'nerd.' To her, I was practically invisible—at least, until she needed something from me.

"Hi, Gina," I replied, forcing some enthusiasm into my voice.

She tossed her pale blonde hair over her shoulder and got straight to the point. "I need to borrow your notes. I haven’t done the stupid reading and I’m too hungover to even try."

"I haven’t written anything down yet," I lied smoothly. "I actually came up here to work on them."

In my head, this was a foolproof plan, but Gina had other ideas. She flashed a grin and suddenly looped her arm through mine. "Oh, that’s perfect! We can do the work together. We’ll be like, er, study buddies."

Oh hell no!