Chapter 5

This was Serena Calloway.

At eighteen, Serena had been striking. Sharp-edged, beautiful, always looking down at the world with her chin lifted. She'd become famous overnight from that kiss with Julian in the equipment room.

The woman in front of me didn't look like the same person.

She seemed startled to hear her own name.

Then she crumpled, sobbing, reaching for me.

"Ivy. Please. Tell him to stop. Tell him to let me go."

I kept my distance. "Who are you talking about?"

"Julian."

Her voice cracked.

"He found out. He knows everything now. For the last ten years, he's made me crawl on my knees to your grave every single day. Nine thousand steps. Every day. Rain or shine. For ten years." Her voice broke completely. "My knees are ruined. My life is over. Please, Ivy—"

I stared at her.

I'd never imagined Julian would do something like that. Not for me. Not for someone he'd despised.

"But he liked you," I said. "Didn't he?"

Serena laughed — a pale, brittle sound.

"The kiss in the equipment room — I staged it. Set it up so someone would photograph us. He never liked me. He—"

Whatever she was about to say, she didn't finish.

She saw something over my shoulder and stumbled backward, crashing into the wall, terror flooding her face.

I turned around.

Julian was walking toward us, carrying two containers of soup. He looked at Serena's retreating figure with a small frown.

"Did she bother you?"