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Waking up the next morning is somehow surreal. No Mom preparing breakfast; no Tom peeking at your half-naked forms; no Dad already at the door who greets you in passing: it's just the two of you, the Harris sisters, moving around like zombies and spilling some milk in the cup. And there's Cindy too, but she hasn't even gotten up from the bed (you've put her in Tom's room, hoping that it would have triggered some good memories).

-Grandma says that our brother is fine.- Kim announces. You nod gravely.

-I told her to bring him somewhere safe until it's over.- She continues. You frown, not because it was a bad idea (it wasn't, at all), but because you can't imagine how she could have convinced him.

Via sex, probably. That seems to work pretty well with your old body.

Yeah, it would work with you too: apparently you can't live without constant carnal pleasure, apparently you can't think about anything else even while your best friend is in mortal danger, apparently...

-Tina.-.

You jolt at the touch of Kim's hand on your shoulder. She's looking at you, trying to conceive her apprehension behind a serious rationality.

-Have you heard what I said?-.

-Yes.- You answer.

-I know what I have to do.-.

You silently finish your meal and follow your sister to her car. One uneventful trip later, you find yourself in front of your school; but you remain immobile, barely disturbed by the roar of the engine. You find yourself longing for time to stop, so that you can stay in there forever.

Kim doesn't say anything, neither she pressures you to leave. She just waits for you to be ready. Without a word, you finally dismount and step inside the building.

For some reason, you were almost expecting to enter into an apocalyptic version of your school, a twisted, upside-down reality already invaded my Charity's army. Instead, everything looks normal: students are roaming along the halls, cheerleaders are bitching while strolling in little groups, and there's an abyss around the local bully as she marches with the impetus of a locomotive.

There is just one thing missing, a detail that probably nobody else would ever notice: a pair of pale legs sprouting behind an open locker, one pretty close to yours. You shake your head before anyone can notice your stare, and you rub your lucid eyes.

-Heya Tina!- Someone pats your shoulder. For a moment, you hope. But it's unfounded, if not upon your desperation.

In fact, the girl you are now looking at is physically pretty different from her, being totally of another ethnicity.

-Nadira! H-Hi!- You greet her, attempting vainly to recompose yourself.

-Wazzap?- Your Gabonese friend asks with a frown. It's the first time you meet her, meaning you-you, since she's been out of the country for the last seven days. Why? Your memories tell you that she often goes to visit her relatives in Africa. At least, that means she's still safe.

-Nothing, just... the math test! Tomorrow's one, I'm, uff, I'm so worried you know! Ahah!- You try to deceive her.

-You? Fo' math?- She raises a skeptical eyebrow. Math has never been a problem for your sister; then, she lifts her look over you: -Is Heather la'e?-.

-No, she's... sick.- Your voice falters, and you clear your throat before she can add anything else: -And how was your holiday?-.

-'Sup!- Nadira's visage immediately brights up: she loves talking about her birthplace, meaning that she could do it for an entire day. She, therefore, starts relating her last week from the exact beginning, and you're sure that you would normally love to listen to her, imagining the things she's describing as if you were there with her. But you barely pay attention and only when, in some momentum of fervor, her accent becomes particularly trodden.

Yet, no different than in the car, you wish she could go on forever, so that you would be **** to stay like this, immobile, passive. Harmless. Because the more you look at her, the more you feel affection toward her, and the less you want to do what you have to.

Right now, she's talking about her stupid brother who had complained about the Wi-Fi stability while they were in the middle of nothing, she's describing her native village and particularly that really ancient tree, sacred to her people, which by now she has told you so many times that you would know how to draw it. She gets lost in emotion thinking back to that second home of hers, putting all her efforts into describing every small but fascinating detail, like that famous cassava rice that here you can't find not even in ethnic supermarkets.

She has her life: a normal one, a beautiful one. She deserves it.

-Oh, time ta' go.- She says as the bell rings. She goes to class, and you uncertainly follow her.

---

You exhale a deep breath. You've rested your forehead on the wheel, and now your long, brunette hair is falling all around your vision. But you have no time to lose.

You straighten up, looking in the rearview mirror at your sister's eyes - nope, at your eyes - and pull the handbrake. In a motion, you're out. You lock the car behind you, your troubled snout transforming into a false, yet trained, pert smile, and you walk towards the university entrance with the boldness of a queen, with students spontaneously moving away. You feel a surge of pride boiling in your chest, but you put it aside, as you've already located your first target.

-Good morning Lucy!- You chirp, addressing a shorter girl who's walking in front of you. She turns around, and her stupor subsides to a candid-looking cordiality. Lucy Ashton, one of your "projects" during high school, when you decided that this bland round-faced girl with an equally bland name (Lucille, eugh) had to become one of the popular clique. And so she did. Just because you could.

-Good morning Kim!- You exchange quick cheek-pecks, only that with the final one your face embeds more in-depth, and from your nostril a spit of reddish goo leaps in her ear. You hold her for a second, a gesture that in such a context goes unnoticed by passersby. You then depart, and to everyone's eyes nothing has changed. And you can't but feel thrilled at that idea.

-...Forgive me, I'm gonna be late for the lecture.-. She moves away, mingling with the crowd. As you proceed too, you meet the complicit looks of several other students and some professors too: some of them you recognize from last evening, and others are surely new faces.

Good. The web is already spreading around, ready to trap Charity as soon as she steps in.

Yeah, but this opens a question: where the hell is she?

---

Five minutes to go. It's almost the end of the fourth hour, and you're feeling more and more nervous. During lectures, you couldn't do anything: that's obvious, too many people assisting; but, in their between and also during the break, you've done everything to avoid Nadira, escaping by the mere chance of being left alone with her.

But you knew, and you're ascertaining it now at each ticking of the clock, that you are just procrastinating your duty until it's inevitable, and that moment feels desperately close. Until you were among people, until you had a sudden event to take care of, like your backpack accidentally spilled on the floor or an impellent attack of hunger that has led you to the dispensers, well, you couldn't be blamed for doing nothing. Hell, once you even pretended that someone where calling you just to drop into a random conversation. Besides, what if you were wrong and she was already taken over by Charity, waiting for you to move? Were you ready to face her? Or to accept it? Is it cowardly not to want to harm a friend, perhaps?

But now you're running out of excuses, plus you feel Nadira's eyes constantly on you, peering at your soul. After all, to say that you've been suspicious is a euphemism. What is worse, you're starting to regret having waited so long, thinking that at least it would have been already over.

Oh god. You can't be in class in five minutes. You absolutely have to be anywhere else.

-Excuse me, teach!- You raise your hand. The professor pauses and looks at you baffled: Tina Harris is not the kind of student that interrupts a lecture like this.

-Uh, may I go to the bathroom?-.

-I'm sure you can wait five more minutes, Miss Harris.- He dismisses you: -Now, as I was saying...-.

-But I really need to! It's... erm, girl stuff.- You evocatively allude. A buzz arises all around you, making you blush with embarrassment; luckily, the professor is too.

-Aehm, I see, well then you may go.-.

You jump on your feet and march outside the room, fleeing from Nadira's gaze. As you walk quickly down the corridors, you constate that they are still empty; not that it changes anything, since you're really aiming for the toilet room. It's going to be like in those dramas: you'll give yourself a face wash, look in the mirror and then you will-

-Hey-hey princess, why so in a hurry?-.

"...fuck.".

You know that voice. You fear that voice. You turn around, and here she is: Cassidy Reynolds, the school delinquent, the same one you've seen before. A punkish girl who until last year was just the right-hand woman of the previous head bully, and now that he has graduated she has fulfilled his place with **** devotion.

You, that is Tina, have never interacted with her, not being one of her usual victims; but you know that she doesn't like Nadira, being one of the few people who isn't scared of her, and neither Heather, for the same reasons as Melissa. Well, to be honest, she doesn't like Melissa too. In any case, you're definitely not on her cool list either, and when she wanders alone in the halls it means that she's particularly bored and thus prone to pick on anyone.

-Don't you know you need a license to stay in the corridor?- She taunts you, getting more and more looming.

-I'm just going to the restroom.- You try to turn her down, in vain.

-Oh, yeah? But it's in this direction then. Maybe you need me to step aside?- She points out. And... she's right, toilets are behind her. The fact is, you were aiming for the furthest ones from your classroom, but now she's even pretending to budge to let you pass. You could run, or try to, but she's said to be very fast in chasing. You could also...

"No!".

You look hesitantly at her.

-I'm not looking for troubles.-.

She lifts her hands and makes a grimace standing for "Who? Me? Troubles?", and you finally step towards her. She follows you with her eyes as you pass beside her, but doesn't move a muscle.

Good.

But it's when you start to think that it's over that you hear her arrogant voice mocking you from behind.

-And how is that rich girlfriend of yours? By the way, congratulations on your choice, princess.-.

Those words trigger something, like, really intense. In a flash, you remember a particular time that your "girlfriend" confessed to you of a certain harassment she has endured one day you were not at school, by Cassidy's old gang no less. And so what maybe was intended to be a tease, sounds more like a menace to your ears.

-It's none of your business Cassidy.-.

-What??- You have only the time to regret your stupid choice of words before you hear her leaping at you. In reflex, you spin around and grasp her t-shirt, slamming her against the lockers on your side with much less fatigue than you would have expected. Indeed, it was like moving a cloth doll.

"How did I...?".

Cassidy's bewildered expression quickly mutates into pure anger, and you have to shelve that thought.

-Oh, that was some big mistake, you little...-.

Once again, your instinct kicks in, and you slam your opened palm onto her mouth. She immediately struggles to get free, only to stiffen as something slides down her throat until, finally, she goes limp. You stride back, while a now-speechless Cassidy is staring at you in awe and confusion.

"N-No... s-she left me ****!".

-Tina?-.

You freeze. You slowly turn toward that voice, your eyes widened in fear.

Nadira has just appeared from the hall at your side. Or, at least, you've noticed her only now.

Tell me that she hasn't seen this.

Nadira moves her eyes between you and Cassidy: -What's going on?- comes her question.

You don't know how much she has just witnessed, nor what it may have seemed from her point of view. But now you have to take a decision, and the sudden ring of the bell leaves you short of time.

---

You've passed the last four hours not even listening to a word spelled by your professors. For the old Kim, that would have meant spending all her time on the phone, only to later regret wasting the morning.

You, instead, have furiously typed on your laptop for the entire time, gaining from time to time the glances of admiration of the oblivious students around you. All the pieces of information that you've collected from all your old and new clones, every singular hypothesis that has come to your minds, now it all resides in a series of digital documents.

You sigh, stretching your arms behind your head. You really need a break, even the smallest one, at least until the start of the next, and last, lecture of the day; and so, you mechanically follow everyone outside the room, your mind still milling of thoughts and calculations.

"At this rate, we will cover all the girls on the campus in less than a couple of days. But with the boys...".

You're abruptly taken back to reality when you almost bump into another person distracted by her phone, and you can thank only your reflexes if it's not the case.

-Hey, loo...- Your words die in your throat as you recognize the girl standing in front of you, and so does any consideration regarding your future plans. She's shocked too, but a mischievous grin immediately replaces her stupor, as is typical for someone like her.

-My, hello Kim! It's been a long time!-.

You sketch out a plastic smile.

-Yeah...-.

"Bitch.".

-Duh, actually, I often see you passing around.- She corrects herself, and it goes without saying that you see her pretty often too, but there is a reason why this has never translated into a chat, or even an eye contact.

-Anyway, how you doing? How are your... adorable brother and your sweet sister?-.

-I'm fine, Maylene, thank you. We are all fine.- You parade a friendliness for which you can thank only Kim's skilled poker face. Though, from Kim comes also the instinct to stab her pretty face with the sharpest knife you can find.

Maylene Crawford. The worst bitch in the city.

She was once your friend, or so you thought until she backstabbed you and stole your boyfriend. Well, not a real friend, just a girl you were cool with, since she already had the bad habit of considering herself your peer, but you hang out with her a lot. Thinking back, maybe you should have foreseen her betrayal; but how could an innocent, pure-hearted person like you ever imagine it?

-But what about you? Still dating...- You leave suspended the sentence, which she soon covers with her chirpy soprano accompanied by a theatrical dismissive gesture of her hand: -Joshy? Oh, no! Honestly, that guy wouldn't be able to hold up a relationship, not even in a thousand years!-.

You, clearly, know it very well.

-Gosh, Kim, I'm so sorry if there's been that bad misunderstanding between us! Boys are just pigs, we are so better than them!- She whines. Well, that's Maylene's style: orbiting for a bit around the point, then facing it directly but without really doing so. Never her fault, never the objective truth; only the version she recounts to herself. She manages to make Krissy's digs sound like innocent comments in comparison.

What makes you boil, however, is the fact that she even used Josh's nickname that you coined specifically for him, since it's no secret that everyone used to call him "Jay" before you arrived; and surely she remembers it perfectly, because that's how you were referring to him while you were crying in despair once that you've found out he was cheating on you with someone else; and of course she was present that time, handing you handkerchiefs and hugging you and-

-Things of the past.- You puff, tightening your lips. Enough of this high school nonsense, you can't allow her to bring you back at that period, especially in a moment like this one. But damn, you're losing it, and this is the only moment in your entire life in which you can't allow yourself to make a scene and raise everyone's attention...

"Wait.".

You carefully examine the girl standing before you. Her mannerisms are exactly as you remembered: the way she twirls a tuft of hair while she talks, how she constantly bats her eyelids to bewitch her interlocutor, her posture slightly curved on one ankle...

This seems precisely like her. But is it?

And, after all, why should you bother to protect her? She would be perfect for Charity, a viper hiding inside the shedding of a rattlesnake. Yes, you're not gonna risk your ass for this little piece of...

"...".

-Duh, you're so right! Glad that we're still on the same line, and you absolutely have to tell me what you've done during these years! You know, it's so nice that your sense of style has not aged with you!-.

-...yes. Really nice.-.

...but you have to, don't you? Plus, she has connections. Useful connections.

"Damn.".

If Charity hasn't gotten Lucy, you don't see why would have preferred someone that Cindy already hates (well, that you hate, and therefore Cindy does too). No, this is just the usual bitch trying to take advantage of the situation to fuck with you. Besides, worst-case scenario, you'll have a reason to punch her in the jaw.

-Well, it's been lovely to have talked with you again! We totally have to hang out together, one of these days!- She's saying in the meantime, her legs already twisting in the motion of leaving. But, unfortunately for her and even more for you, you have more contingent plans.

From the group of girls chatting behind her, one of them suddenly departs and walks toward you, on her hand secretly forming a pad of goo.

This telepathic shit is something you definitely have to explore, you consider between yourself. But you also need to distract Maylene for the next few seconds.

-You're so right!- You echo her, stretching your smile up to bursting: -But how's your sister instead?-.

She, obviously, frowns. Maylene Crawford is an only child, and there's no way Kim Harris doesn't know it.

With a swift motion, your companion passes behind her, slipping her digits inside her loose-waist shorts before casually walking away. Maylene's snout contracts into an expression of utter confusion, and you wait in expectation to know whether your previsions were correct or not.

As she displays back her grin, the sensation she's now emanating is no different from the others; and there is no green goo splattering on the floor.

-She's fine. Better than ever, I would say.-.

You roll your eyes as she 'shrewdly' passes her hands along her feminine form.

Great Scott, you've just given your dumb brother access to your sexy, subtle archenemy. The Charity option would have been much better.

-By the way, you should really check who is coming.- She hints at something behind you. You turn around, weirded out by the maliciousness in her voice. The chattering behind your back has suddenly decreased, and from many girls come stealthy glances and an overall air of tension. Everything due to the young, blond-haired, Hispanic woman walking along the corridor, going straight in your direction.

Well, you've just called for her, right?

You perceive Maylene vanishing in the crowd, leaving you alone to face the imminent threat.

But, will you? To her you're just the normal Kim Harris, a student of this university, since nothing has blown up your cover-up to now; plus, a direct confrontation may turn for the bad. Like, really bad.

Yet, it could be beneficial to acquire more information directly from the source; and, after all, she surely has her suspicions about you, since you're Cindy's best friend (and Tina's sister, if she has found out that too); finally, you want to make clear once and for all who is the bitch she's going to deal with. But you also rationally know that the instinct to close the question now, so impellent under your skin, is far from being logical, moved instead only by exasperation.

You have to choose: playing on the defensive or going to the offensive, to prudentially hide or to boldly attack.

And you're exactly in her way.