All the way to school, Olivia obsessed over a new toy she had seen. It took everything for me not to beat my head against the steering wheel. Before jumping out in front of her elementary school, she leaned forward for her obligatory air-kiss. Up close, we were undeniably sisters—with the same deep, auburn curls and freckles.

“Be nice to the other kids today,” I reminded her. “And, please God, don’t touch anything dead.”

She sent me a rather adult look before racing across the walkway in a flurry of pink and glitter. I sat there for a moment, watching as she disappeared among the other pint-sized people. Dad used to say that Olivia had an old soul in her, and I hadn’t really understood that until lately.

I glanced at the clock in the dashboard—five minutes to make it to homeroom without getting another tardy. Collecting tardy slips had become sort of a hobby of mine. One day, I would have a pretty collage of pink paper with angry red writing. I’d hang it on the fridge for Olivia. She dug pink things.

* * *

Ten minutes later, I slid into my seat with another late slip in my hand and a disgruntled look on my face.

“Again?” whispered the tawny-haired boy beside me.

I sent him a haughty look, only to be met with a broad grin. “What does it look like, Adam?”

He shrugged, still grinning. “Maybe you shouldn’t oversleep?”

Adam Lewis was the only person in Allentown High who hadn’t stopped talking to me after the accident. Sandbox love—that was what we had—but it wasn’t like I could tell him I was late because my little sis had dug up her dead hamster this morning and brought him back to life. I kind of wanted to keep him as a friend.

Adam gave me a puzzled look. He was cute in that nerdy kind of way, but nothing other than friendship lay between us. There couldn’t be more. Ever.

Our teacher narrowed her eyes, her lips drawn in a tight line. Mrs. Benton had a no-talk policy during homeroom, which added to her unpopularity among the students. I turned back to my notebook and started scribbling, waiting for the first period bell to ring. I kept thinking about what Olivia had done while I started to sketch the old oak tree outside our classroom window.

My version of the tree looked nothing like the one outside. Maybe it was the fact I’d opted for thick clouds in the background and turned each branch down so the edges were jagged, instead of capturing how the early morning sunlight illuminated the red and golden leaves.

My sketch lacked life. Like me.

I had no idea how Olivia could bring back the dead. For all I knew, she could’ve been born this way, but it had taken a careless driver and the twisting of metal to spotlight her unique talent two years ago.

I had died in the car, along with Dad.