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I hated driving down Old Mill Road. 

Some people say it's haunted. Some people say it's just creepy, but secretly believe it's haunted. Those who don't think it's haunted hate it because of its history.

I fall into the latter category. It's stupid to think a place is haunted, but the road is sad and more than a little eerie.

In 1950, there was a mill on this road. Fifty-seven men worked there. One night, there was a horrible fire. Not one man made it out alive, and the cause of the fire was never determined. Most people think someone got too close to hot machinery or the furnace with oil. The remains of the mill still stand, blackened and looking like they could crumble at any minute, leering at anyone who drives past it.

Nothing else was ever built on the road, so it became known as Old Mill Road. 

With my luck, I had to drive down the road twice today: once to school and once home. 

Today was the first day of my senior year. If driving down Old Mill Road to start the day was any indication, I was in for a rough time.

I dressed carefully in front of the mirror, knowing very well than my appearance could and would make or break me today.

I wasn't vain, but I knew people would be looking today.

I had been one of the 'goth' kids after my mom's death in seventh grade. I didn't do drugs, drink, have sex, or write poetry about death, so they didn't really like me; they tolerated me. That also meant they never pushed me to talk about how I felt, and they didn't worry about accidentally upsetting me. That's why I had stuck around for so long.

Nick had been my best and only friend, and I was sad to think I wouldn't hang out with him today. Even through my anger and disgust with him, I missed his constant presence.

That would be the hardest part about this transformation; I had never started a day of high school without him by my side.

But this would be the year I reinvented myself, the year I found out who the 'real' Stacey was.

I let my curls go wild instead of painstakingly straightening them like I had done in the past, then did my makeup (darker than last year's because I had allowed my natural tan to flourish this summer.) I carefully applied mascara, glad my eyelashes were cooperating instead of sticking out everywhere and clumping together. I lined my green eyes in black (with much less liner than I would have used last year) and struggled into my capris (I had actually developed curves this summer- who would've guessed?) and decided on a gray, lacy tank top with a lavender mid-sleeved cardigan over it. Simple and neutral; I wasn't in the old group, but I wasn't pulling a one-eighty, either. I was slowly making a change.

I smiled at my much better looking chestnut hair. Stripping it of the black and red dye had done wonders for my skin tone.

I looked at the clock and gave a start; I needed to leave five minutes ago. I rushed downstairs and hurried to start the jeep.

Once at school, I avoided the interested eyes of the goth kids, feeling Nick's glare on my back.

My heart clenched, and I felt like I might vomit, but I straightened my shoulders and strolled by, pretending to be indifferent. I walked with purpose to my locker and leaned my forehead against it, exhaling in relief and sadness once I was past him.

I picked my head up and spun my lock, yanking the door open and unzipping my backpack.

"Hey, Stacey."

I looked up, eyes wide, to see Erik Smith standing at the locker next to mine.

My heart started hammering in my chest. It was almost painful.