Ellie Sandberg would love to reinvent herself. When she earns a spot at an elite boarding school for young inventors, it seems like the perfect opportunity: A summer away from home, away from her overprotective parents, and away from the hopeless cr...
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E L L I E
There's something wrong. Something off. Something just beyond my grasp, nagging at the fringes of my consciousness, demanding my attention—and yet scurrying away every time I try to put my finger on what it is.
I hate that feeling. Is there anything more irritating? I'm pretty sure there's a version of hell that involves nothing more than going through the motions of your daily life with this tantalizing sensation in the back of your mind, like an itch you can never quite scratch.
This feeling has been with me since I woke up this morning. I'd been dreaming. About... something. Whatever it was, the memory faded the moment my eyes blinked open, leaving me with nothing but a tangle of damp sheets and the unsettling sensation of a truth just out of reach.
I got up and went about my day, and I thought I put the dream behind me. But now the feeling is back. Something wrong... something off...
Maybe it's just a case of déjà vu?
I'm surrounded by the same four girls I met on Day 1 of the program, arranged in nearly identical formation. Miranda and Samantha are sitting on one bed, quietly holding hands, with Chloe and Celeste sitting cross-legged on the bed opposite.
There are only a few small differences today. Like the fact that I know their names now, after sharing this hallway with them for the past 30 days. I've long since added all these girls to my InstaFriend column.
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And of course, there's one person missing from today's little girl-talk sesh—someone who was definitely present that other time.
Where's Reese?
The last time I saw her, she had her blue-haired head slumped against Maddox's chest. He led her away somewhere, staggering beneath her weight. She looked stricken when she heard the news. Beyond devastated. Destroyed. I can only presume Maddox took her to the infirmary. I haven't seen Reese since, and the room she shared with Eleanor is now roped off with yellow crime-scene tape.
