Morbid curiosity tugs at me. Yes, something whispers. Then I find myself saying it out loud, too. Luke grins, swings the door open with a flourish, like a demented emcee welcoming me to the cabaret.

I step inside, suck in a deep, chlorine-tinged breath. And…it’s a pool. Like any other school pool. I’ve swum in enough of them. Metal bleachers to the left, locker rooms to the right, softly undulating blue waters, diving boards, body.

Body?

There’s a body in the pool.

My heart leaps into my throat. And I sprint toward the pool.

CHAPTER FIVE

Instinct takes over: Throw off backpack. Sprint to the pool. Swallow down the burning, pulsating fear pushing up my throat. I dive in, fully clothed, the water shocking my system with cold. Still, I pump my arms and legs, hard, to reach the person. They need help. I have to help. I’m close—three feet, then half a foot away, close enough to touch. My fingers grasp at their arm; the skin is hard, plasticky. No, not plasticky. Literally plastic. What?

Laughter echoes around me, multiplies as it bounces off the walls.

“Luke, you asshole!” I hear someone say.

“I didn’t know she’d jump in!”

Amber is scolding Luke.

“She’s a goddamn hero!”

That’s Natalie. I sputter, look closer at my victim. It’s…a dummy. Like a CPR one. This is a fucking prank. And when I turn to see my “friends,” Natalie’s still in her cheer uniform, and she has her phone up, capturing the whole thing. Morgan hovers behind her. “You’re going to be huge on TikTok, Cecelia. Love it!”

But they seem to be laughing with me, rather than at me, so I take it on the chin. Ha ha, great initiation ritual into the friend group. A good attitude doesn’t make me dry, though. I pull myself from the pool, very, very wet. I drip onto the pool tiles and search in vain for a towel.

“Sorry, Cecelia,” Morgan says, handing me my backpack, like that is remotely helpful. I look for Bronte but don’t see her. Good. Pranks don’t seem her speed, and Amber’s scowling, still pissed.

Then Ben emerges from the locker room. He eyes me, soaking wet, dummy in the pool, Natalie and Luke tittering, and turns right around. Well, this is humiliating. But before I can despair, he’s back, armed with towels, and the churn of embarrassment transforms into elation. A gentleman, he puts one towel around my shoulder and hands me the other so I can pat myself down. Then he rounds on Natalie, Luke, and Morgan.

“Not fucking cool.”

Natalie rolls her eyes. “Oh, please, six months ago you’d have rigged the dummy yourself. You’re just bitter because we don’t like you anymore.”