I try to imagine how it must have felt for Linnea when Lucas told her about the nickname Spinner. It’s hardly surprising that she wasn’t herself. I’d lose it too if I found out I was a substitute for a dead friend.

“Y-you have gone completely insane,” I stammer.

“What do you care?” says Kate. “You hate Linnea anyway!”

Lucas and Kate are right. I did hate her.

But something’s changed. Maybe it happened when she fainted in my arms or when she lashed out at me.

When she was so angry, she seemed a lot like her.

Actually, I’m no better than Kate.

I liked Linnea only when I saw the resemblance to her. I made Linnea into a replacement too.

She sacrificed herself for friends she can’t trust. We’re wrapped up together in one big web of lies.

If anything happens to her now, it’s my fault. Just like a year ago.

I wasn’t able to save her, but it’s not too late for Linnea.

I walk to the door and open it. No one asks where I’m going. No one asks what I’m going to do.

I slam the door behind me so hard that the echo booms along the hallway.

I have to find Linnea.

Linnea

The church bells ring outside, but I lose count. How long have I been in here?

Claus is sitting on the edge of the bed. The ropes are cutting deeper and deeper into my wrists, as if someone has pulled them tight. My arms are cramping up. I’m exhausted.

“How much do you actually know about Isolde?” asks Claus.

“Not much.”

“So your friends never told you anything about her?”

“They’re not my friends. They’re her friends. I was just allowed to borrow them for a while.”

I don’t want to say that, and certainly not to Claus, but then, to my surprise, I see his expression soften.

“What happened?” he asks. For a moment I see a glimpse of the boy I first met: considerate and understanding.

A thought shoots through my mind: This is it. I have to get him on my side, make him feel some sympathy. I remember a movie I watched not that long ago with my mom and dad. A kidnap victim got friendly with her abductor and was eventually able to escape when he left her unguarded.

New energy flows through me and I sit up straighter.

“Kate calls me Spinner. I didn’t know it was actually Isolde’s nickname. I thought Kate came up with it for me.”

“That’s disgusting,” Claus says with a sigh. “And the braid was her idea too, I bet.”

What? The braid? I remember Kate braiding my hair. Did Isolde wear her hair in a braid?

“Yeah, that was her idea,” I say quietly. “I hate them. All three of them.”

“Really?” asks Claus.