Chloe had perfected the art of weaponized incompetence. She'd stumble into class late, wide-eyed and breathless, clutching a Starbucks cup like it was a lifeline. "Oh my God, you guys, I'm so bad at mornings!" And just like that, someone would offer her their notes. Someone always did. Even Hayden—my childhood best friend, my first kiss behind the bleachers in eighth grade—would drop everything to help her. He'd smile that patient, indulgent smile and say, "Don't worry about it, Chloe. I've got you." He never questioned her. Not when she "accidentally" deleted his Google Drive folder senior year. And definitely not on the day she logged into his Common App account and torched his future. I watched it happen. I said nothing. Because in my first life, I'd tried to save him. I'd caught her red-handed, reported her to the Honor Council, and fixed his college applications with minutes to spare. And Hayden? He called me a jealous bitch. Said I was threatened by Chloe's "sweetness." Said I'd fabricated the whole thing because I couldn't stand to see him happy. Two years later, when I was a graduate student at MIT, he destroyed me. He filed a false academic misconduct report. Forged emails. Planted evidence in my research files. The investigation was brutal. The hearing was worse. I was expelled, blacklisted, and facing federal charges for research fraud I didn't commit. "What did you expect?" he said through the plexiglass during his one and only visit to the jail. "You tried to ruin Chloe. Did you really think I'd let that slide?" In prison, the violence was methodical. A woman named Reina ran our cell block, and she had very specific instructions: make it hurt, but don't leave marks. I learned later that Hayden had paid her. Five thousand dollars to make sure I suffered. She earned every penny. I died on a concrete floor, my body shutting down from starvation and internal bleeding, clutching a shell casing my father had given me before he deployed to Afghanistan. He never came home. Neither did I. Until I did. I reborn. I woke up to the smell of industrial cleaner and the mechanical hum of desktop computers. My fingers were on a keyboard. The screen in front of me glowed with the Common App portal, a countdown timer ticking in the corner: 4 hours, 27 minutes until submission deadline. "Ava? You done yet?" The voice hit me like a fist to the sternum. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. My entire body locked up as footsteps clicked across the linoleum floor behind me. I didn't need to turn around. I knew exactly who it was. Chloe. And I knew exactly what she was about to do. "Almost," I managed, my voice coming out strangled. I kept my eyes on the screen, but my peripheral vision tracked her movement. She drifted toward the back corner of the computer lab—the one spot the security camera didn't cover. I'd discovered that blind spot in my previous life, right after I'd discovered what she was doing there. This time, I was ready. My phone was already propped between two textbooks, camera lens aimed directly at that corner. Recording. Chloe glanced around, her ponytail swishing as she checked to make sure no one was watching. Then she slid into the chair, her fingers flying across the keyboard with the kind of confidence that didn't match her "oops, I'm so clumsy" persona. She logged into Hayden's account. He'd given her his password months ago—because of course he had. He trusted her completely. I watched her navigate to his application. Watched her delete MIT, Stanford, Columbia. Watched her replace them, one by one, with the local community college. Not even the good one. The one that advertised on bus benches. When she finished, she stared at the screen for a long moment. And then she smiled. It wasn't the ditsy, giggling smile she wore around guys. It was cold. Satisfied. Surgical. "Chloe?" Hayden's voice shattered the silence. I flinched so hard I nearly knocked over my water bottle.
"Hayden!" Chloe's mask snapped back into place with terrifying speed. She bounded toward him, all bright eyes and breathless energy. "Oh my God, you scared me! I was just, like, checking my email and I think I clicked something weird? The screen went all crazy." Hayden caught her by the shoulders, steadying her. "You're fine. Just log out if something's acting up." She nodded, burying her face against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, and for just a second, his eyes flicked toward me. The look in them made my blood run cold. He turned away, guiding Chloe toward the door with his hand on the small of her back. I sat frozen until their footsteps faded. Then I looked down at my phone. The video was crystal clear. Every keystroke. Every smile. Every lie. Last time, I'd run after them. I'd screamed. I'd begged Hayden to check his account. He'd looked at me like I was delusional. This time, I closed the recording and saved it to three separate cloud drives. Then I deleted the application I'd already filled out—Boston University, Finance major, the school Hayden had picked for me because he liked the idea of us in the same city. I typed in a new name: United States Military Academy at West Point. My father's alma mater. The place I'd spent my whole childhood trying to forget. "I'm done running," I whispered to the empty lab. The submit button glowed green. I clicked it. --- The Common App portal locked at midnight. By the time Hayden's mother found out, it was three days later. I was restocking shelves at the campus bookstore when I heard the screaming. "WHO TOUCHED HIS APPLICATIONS?" Mrs. White's voice cut through the hallway like a siren. I peeked around the corner and saw her storming toward the administrative office, heels clicking like gunshots, a printout of Hayden's college list clutched in her hand. The entire hallway went silent. Chloe was at her locker. I watched the color drain from her face. Her fingers twisted the hem of her skirt. "Mrs. White, I—" Chloe's voice broke beautifully. Tears welled up in her eyes on cue. "I was trying to help. The system was glitching, and I thought—I thought I clicked save, but—" "You thought?" Mrs. White's voice could have stripped paint. "You thought? Do you have any idea what you've done?" In my first life, this scene had played out differently. I'd fixed Hayden's applications before the deadline. Mrs. White had shown up angry, but ultimately relieved. She'd thanked me stiffly, then never spoken to me again. Hayden had called me a meddling bitch and told me to stay out of his life. This time, I stayed in the bookstore. My phone was recording from my jacket pocket. "Mom." Hayden appeared in the hallway, his jaw tight. He put himself between Chloe and his mother. "I told her to do it." The hallway erupted in whispers. I nearly dropped the book in my hand. "What?" Mrs. White's voice cracked.
"I asked Chloe to change my applications." Hayden's voice was calm. Too calm. "Community college is fine. I don't need some fancy name on a degree to prove I'm worth something." He pulled Chloe against his side, his arm locked around her shoulders. "If I can be with her, that's all that matters." Chloe's tears froze halfway down her cheeks. Mrs. White looked like she'd been slapped. And Hayden turned his head, just slightly, and looked directly at me. He smiled. It was the kind of smile that said checkmate. I turned off the recording and went back to stacking books. --- The senior class dinner was held at Marcello's, the kind of Italian restaurant with cloth napkins and candles on every table. Chloe wore white. Of course she did. She floated between tables, laughing and hugging people, her hand occasionally brushing Hayden's arm. "Can you believe Hayden's giving up everything for me? He's so sweet." She stopped by my table, leaning down so her hair fell across her shoulder. "Ava, I heard you got into West Point? That's so… intense. Are you, like, trying to get away from us or something?" A few people laughed. I peeled a shrimp, methodical and slow, and didn't look up. "Ava." Hayden's voice. Sharp enough that the table went quiet. I met his eyes. "Your dad died in the military, right?" He swirled his drink, ice clinking against glass. "Blown up or something?" My hands stilled. "You planning to follow in his footsteps?" He leaned back in his chair, his smile cruel and lazy. "Get yourself killed too?" Someone sucked in a breath. Chloe's hand flew to her mouth, but her eyes glittered with something that wasn't sympathy. "I mean, it's kind of sad," Hayden continued, his voice carrying across the restaurant. "No parents. No family. Just… desperation. You're really going to some desert hellhole because you've got nothing else, huh?" The table was silent. I set down my fork. Picked up my glass of Coke. Raised it. "To you and Chloe," I said evenly. "I hope community college is everything you dreamed of." Hayden's smile faltered. For just a second, I saw it—the flicker of recognition. The rage simmering beneath the surface. He knew. He remembered. "Cheers," I said, and took a sip.
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