Chapter 1

In my previous life, I took the acid meant for James Carter.

Half my face was scarred. My dream of college was gone.

He promised he'd marry me after graduation.

But outside the Karaoke Lounge, I overheard him laughing with his friends. "That ugly face makes me sick."

Then I opened my eyes and found myself back on SAT day.

The acid flew toward him again.

This time, I took three steps back.

By the time the sizzling burn filled the air, I was already sitting safely in the exam hall.

*****

It was June 7th.

The sun was brutal, turning the asphalt into a soft, melting mess. The air shimmered with heat, heavy with the sickly sweet scent of gardenias from the flower beds by the school gate.

I stood at the entrance of Brightview High School, gripping my SAT admission ticket so tightly my fingers had gone pale.

It wasn't nerves.

It was because I remembered what was about to happen next.

Under the camphor tree to the left of the gate, James was laughing and joking with a few of his classmates. He wore a white shirt, school uniform pants, and a pair of canvas shoes so faded they were almost white.

He tilted his head to say something to the guy next to him, his smile just the right mix of charming and cocky.

I knew that angle all too well.

In my previous life, I'd replayed that smile over and over—on my hospital bed, in the mirror of my rented room, in every half-hearted text he sent me.

It was like licking a scab, over and over again.

"Emily, what are you looking at?" Maggie poked my shoulder, holding two bottles of iced tea. She handed one to me. The chilled bottle touched my hand, beads of condensation slipping between my fingers.

I didn't take it because I saw Eric.

He came out from behind the newsstand to the right of the gate, carrying a blue plastic bucket with no lid, the liquid inside sloshing slightly.

His eyes were locked on James, his lips pressed into a thin line, the veins on his temples bulging from his hairline to his cheekbones.

Back then, I had no clue what was in that bucket.

I just saw someone rushing at James with that bucket, and without thinking, I threw myself in front of him.

When the acid poured over half my face, the pain didn't even register before everything went black.

First, it was heat, like someone dumped a pan of boiling oil over my face. Then came the sting, the burn, and a terror worse than pain itself. I could hear my skin sizzling, like fat hitting a red-hot griddle.

Later, the doctor told my mom: third-degree chemical burns on the left side of my face, the skin from the corner of my eye down to my jawbone was basically dead, and I'd need several skin grafts.

My mom fainted right there.

James stood at the door of the hospital room, not a single drop of acid on him.

He held my hand, his eyes red and swollen. "Emily, I swear I'll treat you right for the rest of my life. Once we graduate, I'll marry you."

I believed him.

Given the choice between my ruined face and his promise, I clung to his words.

I gave up on the SAT, my third-place finish in the mock exams, and my shot at Summit University's early admission.

The next year, I sat in class with half my face scarred, enduring the stares and whispers. In the end, I only got into just a regular state college.

James ended up at a local second-tier college.

I waited for him for four years.

Until that night, hiding in the fire escape at the corner of the Karaoke Lounge hallway, I overheard him talking to his buddies.

James sneered, "Just looking at Emily's messed-up face makes me want to puke. If she hadn't taken that acid for me, I wouldn't even give her the time of day. I was supposed to go to Coastal State with Sophie."

The guys all cracked up.

One of them said, "Then why don't you just break up with her already?"

James snorted. "Hey, I'm not heartless, okay? Plus, she's actually pretty useful. Who else is gonna do my laundry, cook, and pay the rent for me?"

The fluorescent lights in the hallway hummed.

I leaned against the wall, my nails digging into my palm, biting my lip until I tasted iron.

Those were the clearest words I'd ever heard in my life.

They burned worse than acid.

And then I died.

I can't really remember how it happened. Maybe I slipped coming down from the rooftop, or maybe I just let myself fall.

All I remembered was the wind screaming in my ears as I dropped, and the last thing that crossed my mind before I hit the ground.

In my next life, over my dead body will I ever take the acid for James again.

When I opened my eyes again, it was June 7th.

The sun was merciless. The air was heavy with the cloying sweetness of gardenias. The asphalt looked like it was about to melt.

Maggie poked my shoulder. "Emily, what are you staring at?" Maggie asked.

The corners of my SAT admission ticket were soaked with sweat.

I took a deep breath, the air so hot it burned my throat.

My gaze swept past the crowds on the playground—kids goofing off, parents waving banners until it zeroed in on that hunched figure lurking behind the newsstand.

Eric had already stepped out from behind it.

The blue plastic bucket swung in his grip, the liquid inside catching the light with a slick, dangerous shine.

He was picking up speed.

I could calculate exactly how long it would take him to reach James, twelve seconds.

In my previous life, I rushed out at the ninth second.

"Emily?" Maggie's voice sounded like it was coming from far away.

I watched as Eric got closer and closer.

Ten seconds.

Nine seconds.

My feet moved.

I stepped back.

Once, twice, three times—three steps.

Suddenly, the crowd erupted in screams; someone had spotted the bucket Eric was holding.

"Watch out!"

"What's that?"

"Move! Move!"

James turned his head so slowly, I could even see a tiny speck of dust stuck to his eyelashes.

His face shifted from confusion to terror, frame by frame, like a movie in slow motion.

The acid flew out of the bucket in a glittering arc, catching the sunlight as it traced through the air.

I stood three steps away, watching as that arc splashed straight onto James's face.

His scream ripped through the entire street.

The sickening sizzle was familiar.

In my last life, that horrible sizzle came from my own face.

I remembered that pain: the agony of my flesh dissolving and the burning liquid soaking right down to my bones.

Now, standing a safe distance away, hearing that sound coming from James's direction, my fingers were trembling.

It wasn't fear.

It wasn't guilt.

It was an unnamable, electric sensation that coursed up from the base of my spine to the crown of my head.

James clutched his face and collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony. His white shirt was smeared with dirt and acid, and he let out a scream so raw it didn't even sound human.

Someone rushed over and dragged Eric away.

Someone called 911.

Sophie Lane was holding James's head, sobbing his name—the class beauty, with her long black hair and white dress, her knees scraped and bleeding as she knelt beside him.

The crowd was in chaos. Screams, cries, and shouts all mixed together.

Someone shouted, "Call an ambulance! Hurry!"

People started turning to look at me.

Eyes everywhere were on me.

They were all waiting for me.

Just like in my last life, they were waiting for me to throw myself into the mess, to play the martyr. Everyone knew Emily was head over heels for James, and everyone knew she'd risk it all for him.

I held their stares for three seconds.

I turned away.

And headed toward the exam hall.

Step by step, I moved forward.

Each step was steady and sure.

Behind me, the ambulance siren grew louder, its screech as sharp as nails on glass.

I pushed open the glass doors to the exam building, and a blast of cold air hit me, sending goosebumps all over my skin.

The hallway was so quiet, the only sound was the hum of the air conditioning.

I found my seat—Room Three, fourth row, by the window.

I sat down.

I placed my SAT admission ticket and ID at the corner of the desk.

Pencil, eraser, black pen, all laid out, ready to go.

The chaos outside was sealed off by thick glass, turning it into a silent movie, like a TV with the volume muted.

I saw the ambulance pull up at the school gate, and a white stretcher being wheeled out.

I looked away.

The desk was icy cold, and when I rested my elbow on it, the chill seeped right into my bones.

The bell rang, signaling the start of the exam.

As the proctor handed out the test papers, he gave me a look, pausing as if he wanted to say something, but stayed silent.

I reached out and took the test paper.

I flipped to the essay section. The topic was "Choice."

I stared at that word for five seconds, and before I knew it, a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

I picked up my pen and started writing.

Outside, the ambulance siren faded into the distance, swallowed up by the scorching June air.