Cherry blossom lipstick: check Smokey eyes: check Skinny jeans: check Dead kid in the mirror: check For sixteen year old Mattie Hathaway, this is her normal everyday routine. She's been able to see ghosts since her mother tried to murder her when she was five years old. No way does she want anyone to know she can talk to spooks. Being a foster kid is hard enough without being labeled a freak too. Normally, she just ignores the ghosts and they go away. There's a little glitch this time. The ghost she sees is her foster sister, Sally. Everyone thinks she's just another runaway. Mattie knows the truth, though-she's dead, murdered. Foster kids look out for each other and Mattie feels like she has to help Sally, but she can't do it alone. Against her better judgment, she teams up with a young police officer and together they set out to discover the truth of Sally's disappearance. Now the killer has set his sights on her. It becomes a race to see if she can find the truth before the serial killer finds her.

"What the hell?" I took a step closer to the mirror, staring at my reflection in disbelief. The person looking back was still me, but at the same time it wasn't. I had the same thick, dark, curly hair. The same hazel eyes. The same olive skin with a light dusting of freckles (ugh) scattered across the bridge of my nose. But my curls were now streaked with highlights. And not the subtle, golden-brown ones that sometimes appeared during the summer. No, these were an aggressive, dazzling blond that went from the roots of my hair all the way to the tips. It looked like I had spent a full day getting my hair done in some upscale salon. Never mind that I had never set foot in such a place since the day I was born. My eyes appeared somehow wider and more luminous. The colour brighter, my eyelashes darker up against them. And, when I looked closely, my pupils seemed to be slitted almost like a cat. I looked down at my body. My skinny arms-which had always refused to gain any definition no matter how hard I exercised-were lined with flat, wiry muscles. My bony shoulders were now curved and smooth. My scrawny legs were toned like a dancer. I reached down and lifted my shirt, revealing two subtle lines running vertically down my perfectly flat stomach, hinting at the rock-hard abs underneath. My whole body was rippling with strength. Like liquid steel.