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I couldalmosthear their teasing laugh ringing in my mind. It still caused a warmth to spread through my body.
My fingers twitched toward my phone, a habit that I was trying to break. We weren’t really friends anymore. Not really. Not after the accident. Not after I used them. Not after I lied about what I’d be doing tonight.
Not quite strangers, but not quite anything else either.
How could we come back from this?
The accident had done more than ruin my life, it’d shoved a wedge between me and one of the only people that seemed to actuallycareabout me.
How fucked up was that?
I’d lived on this planet for nineteen years, and I could name on one hand how many people I had ever cared about—and one of them I couldn’t even talk to anymore.
I sat on the edge of the tub, crossing one leg over the other.
Maybe if I’d been a nicer person, my life wouldn’t have turned out like this. Maybe if I had actually tried to change for the better instead of letting the popular girl archetype strip my personality down, I wouldactuallyhave some semblance of my life back.
Karma’s a fucking bitch. Now all I’m known for is theshort list of traits that I shared with Regina George and every other high school movie mean girl.
Even my parents’ status did nothing for me after the accident. Just likehewanted. We were pushed so far out of the spotlight that the world began to forget we ever existed.
But I would be changing that.
I would make sure to take back what I was owed, even if it meant risking my life in the process.
Beyond the door, my bedroom had a backpack and a mattress on the floor. It was all I had left to my name. I’d sold everything else to make one more mortgage payment. That was six months and four asset seizure notices ago.
I would do what I had to. Even if it meant throwing away everything and anyone that ever meant someone to me.
I tapped my phone screen, and it lit with the time, four o’clock. I’d have just enough time to get this rinsed before I needed to catch the train.
Sure, I submitted my documents online—copies of my ID, next of kin form, and a direct deposit for where they could send my winnings, if I had any. But I’d still need to go through hair and makeup before they’d let me set foot in the arena, which meant if I wanted to be ready for sundown, I’d need to hurry my ass up. I wasn’t chancing being put in the fucking maze.
Bingsoo, my fat white Persian, jumped up onto the teal-streaked counter with a loud meow, and I sighed, picking him up and putting him under my arm.
“What are you going to do if I don’t come home tomorrow to bring you breakfast?”
Bingsoo meowed again, his fluffy tail swishing.
“I guess Kohl would come get you, right? They’ll have my face plastered all over if they manage to kill me.”
It was the nature of the Game, you either won or you didn’t come home.
They still cared about me enough not to let him starve, right?
The cat started to struggle, and I sat him down on the floor, groaning as he left little teal footprints. Not that it mattered. It would be a miracle if I came back and the bank hadn’t already changed the locks. I wasn’t ever going to have to try and scrub the dye out of the carpet.
Rinsing my hair was exactly as horrible as I thought it would be.
I used a T-shirt to try and get the bulk of the moisture out, grinning at my reflection.
A sort of manic excitement had started to eclipse my nerves, I was a Legacy after all. I wasbornfor this.
And once I put on my mask, I’d beinvisible.
Good—I’d have no lack of enemies in the arena. Players looking for fame and fortune as murderers or thieves. Being a Legacy had perks: a sign-on bonus, premium air time in the hopes that you’d be a content farm like your parent—or in my case,parents—were, and preferential registration. But all those perks came with one major downside: from the second you set foot in the arena, you were worth twice the points. It was better to be no one.
A Ghost.
