That made Maria’s GPA exactly the same as Delilah’s. As of today, they were tied for first in their class. If graduation were held right now, they’d be co-valedictorians.

“Lo que es segundo sera primero,” the Ouija board had said.

That which is second shall be first. Maria had only been behind Delilah in the class rankings by a tiny fraction of a point. Numbers three and four in their class, Lily and Mateo, were far behind them, out of the running.

The spirit in the board had been right.

Valedictorian. Maria could feel it. Standing up on that stage, clutching the podium with her fists, every set of eyes in the room on her. They’d all know she’d earned it. If she could talk her history teacher into letting her do one more extra-credit project, she could surge ahead in the class rankings when Delilah wasn’t even looking.

But it was only November. Between now and graduation there would be more papers. More tests. More chances for Delilah to cheat and screw her way back into first place.

And even if things stayed the way they were, being tied for first in the class wasn’t enough to push her over the edge for the Kingsley Prize.

Being valedictorian wouldn’t make her soccer captain. Or class president. Or even homecoming queen. Not as long as Delilah Dufrey still reigned.

“It’s all such bullshit,” Maria muttered.

“Sorry, what?” Mateo turned back to her, raising his eyebrows.

“Nothing.”

She leaned back against the bed. It was a fight just to keep her eyes open. Until she spotted Lily smiling their private half smile at her.

Lily was the only person here who actually mattered. The one Maria could honestly say was her equal. No, not her equal; Lily was better than Maria in every way that mattered.

Lily drew her eyes away from Maria after a long minute. She was in the same spot on the edge of her bed where she’d been since the party began, talking to Tamika about how hot their French teacher, Monsieur Seyton, was supposed to be. Tamika was shooting angry looks at Caitlin and Ryan at the same time.

“Hey, I have a story,” Maria said suddenly.

Everyone turned to look at her. “What, another ghost story?” Mateo said.

“Yeah.” Maria wasn’t sure what had made her want to talk about this. Now that she’d started, though, she couldn’t stop. “There was a huge fire here back in the sixteen hundreds. Everyone on the whole plantation died. The family that lived here, their slaves, even their animals. First, though, they all had to go into this dark tunnel underground. Everyone was packed so tight they couldn’t move. That’s where they died. It was pitch-black, and the smoke was so thick no one could see anything except the fire. All you could hear was screaming. Thousands and thousands of screams.”