"Some girls wear masks to hide. I wear mine to feel seen." Woodsboro was supposed to be quiet. Temporary. A place to start over after the kind of loss you're supposed to cry about. But I don't cry. I watch. I collect. I study people the way most girls study horoscopes. Then there's the group at the fountain. Loud, magnetic, dangerous. And the boy who doesn't speak much-but watches like he's always hungry. One invitation pulls me in. Then another. Until I realize I'm not the only one pretending. Everyone has secrets here. Some of us are just better at hiding the blood.
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