Chapter 1

After the SATs, the whole class organized a hiking trip.

When we reached the summit, the class president lied, saying they didn't bring enough water, and insisted I go back down the mountain to buy a case of water for everyone.

I refused, but a girl who was just watching pushed me hard, causing me to twist my ankle.

The pain made me cry out, but instead of helping, the teacher scolded me for being selfish, for refusing to make even a small sacrifice for the class.

I'd been bullied and isolated for so long that something inside me broke. I couldn't hold my emotions back any longer. As I sobbed, the people around me only stared with cold, indifferent eyes.

No one expected a wildfire to suddenly break out. They all managed to escape, but I became a burden, abandoned, and perished in the flames without a trace.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment the class president ordered me to go down the mountain to buy water.

This time, I obeyed. "Alright, I'll go now. You all wait for me at the top."

*****

"Hey, Queenie, we're out of water. Go down and buy us a whole case," a commanding voice jolted me back, and my heart started racing.

Vaughn Marlowe, our class president, was holding up an empty bottle, giving me that smug, raised-eyebrow look.

I glanced around at all the green, so different from the blazing wildfire and suffocating smoke I'd just been through.

I reached up to touch my face, finding it perfectly fine, though I could still feel the sting as if the flames had just scorched me.

Up ahead, my classmates were admiring the summit view, throwing me side-eyes for looking so out of it.

It felt so hauntingly familiar.

I had actually time-traveled half an hour before I was left to die in that wildfire.

We were nearly at the top. That was when Vaughn suddenly decided to single me out, barking at me to hike all the way back down and haul water for the entire class.

Climbing a mountain about 3,300 feet high was already tough, especially with the heat beating down. I'd just managed to catch my breath. Now he wanted me to lug a whole case of water up. I'd be completely wiped out.

In my previous life, I refused. I just couldn't do it. Why not just chill for a while and head down later? Going without water for a little while wouldn't kill anyone.

After all, when they were handing out water before the climb, nobody bothered to give me any. If I got thirsty, I just sucked it up.

The guys started laying into me again.

"Come on, can't you even do this one tiny thing? We all want to chill up here longer. Do you seriously want us all to head down early just because of you?" one of them snapped.

"Queenie, you always ruin the mood. We let you come with us, and you don't even say thanks. Now you're just whining when we ask you to help out," another added.

They started ragging on me like always, and our teacher Rowan Davenport just watched and didn't say a word, like he was totally fine with it.

Why would they ever turn it down? They were the ones getting all the perks.

This was supposed to be a class celebration for finishing the SATs, and I'd chipped in for the group expenses just like everyone else.

But to them, I was just some freeloader, like I was only here thanks to their generosity.

Any protest would just fall on deaf ears, so I just kept my head down, showing my reluctance without a word.

"Oh, look at you, playing the victim again, like we're bullying you or something," one of the girls sneered.

"Should've just left you at home. No one wants to hang out with someone who's always got that funeral face on. Total buzzkill," another girl added.

The girls weren't about to let me off easy, either.

But really, nobody liked hanging around someone who always got a gloomy face.

As a transfer student, the guys at school loved to bully me.

They'd splash ink all over my brand-new white shirt on purpose, then pretend to apologize like nothing had happened.

They'd tear my clothes and stand off to the side, making weird noises, thinking it was hilarious.

So I'd end up having to ask Rowan for help.

But not every teacher really deserved to be called one.

Rowan would just put down his pen, looking all impatient, and fire back at me.

"Ugh, why do they only mess with you and not anyone else? Maybe you're not as innocent as you think," he'd say.

"Maybe you should think about what you're doing to cause all this," he'd add.

With no one on my side, I just gritted my teeth and endured it.

To the girls, the guys bullying me were nothing more than some pathetic attempt at cheap flirting.

They'd shamelessly corner me in the girls' restroom and drench me with water; in the dorm, they'd press a scorching curling iron against my arm, just to watch me suffer.

After surviving all the way to graduation, I just wanted to skip this stupid hiking trip. But Rowan called me selfish.

But they just needed someone to run errands for them.

Spineless as ever, I caved in anyway.

When the wildfire hit, I was abandoned, my ankle twisted, pleading for help, but they just turned their backs and left me there.

To them, I was nothing but a burden, and in the blazing inferno, I was left to be consumed by the flames.

As the fire seared through me, I screamed in rage, dying with my eyes wide open, refusing to go quietly.

Now that I had come back for another round, why should I ever swallow my pride and play nice for their sake?

My lips curved into a cold smile as I looked up at my classmates gathered on the stone steps.

They killed the old, weak Queenie. The one standing before them now was a ghost back for payback.

This time, they would be the ones to taste the agony of the flames.