I'm wearing my dead sister's face. Well, not dead. Missing. But in my family, missing means the same thing. The security guard at Blackwood Academy barely glances at my ID before waving me through the iron gates. He sees what he expects to see: Victoria Ashford, senior, daughter of Senator Richard Ashford, returning from a "family emergency." He doesn't see me. Emma. The sister no one talks about. Victoria disappeared three weeks ago. No note. No goodbye. Just an empty dorm room and a voicemail that still makes my blood run cold. "Emma, if you're listening to this, don't trust anyone. Especially not—" The message cuts off there. I've listened to it two hundred times. The police won't help. They think she ran away. My father thinks she's embarrassing the family. My mother pops another Xanax and pretends she only ever had one daughter. So I did what I had to do. I became her. It wasn't hard. We're identical twins. Same dark hair, same green eyes, same small scar above our left eyebrow from when we were seven and I pushed her off the swing set. I spent two weeks studying her social media, her texts, her entire life. I learned her handwriting. Her laugh. The way she tilted her head when she was thinking. And now I'm here, walking across the pristine lawn of the most elite boarding school in New England, pretending to be the girl everyone loved. The girl who knew something that got her killed. Or worse. My hands shake as I push open the door to Victoria's dorm building. A blonde girl squeals and runs toward me. "Tori! Oh my God, you're back!" I force Victoria's smile onto my face. The one that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Hey, Madison." She hugs me tight. Too tight. Like she's checking to make sure I'm real. "We were so worried," she whispers. "After what happened with—" "I don't want to talk about it," I say, using Victoria's clipped tone. Madison pulls back, hurt flashing across her face. But she nods. "Of course. I just... I'm glad you're okay." I'm not okay. I'm terrified. But I smile anyway and follow her inside. Victoria's room is exactly how I remember it from her Instagram posts. White walls. Gold accents. A four-poster bed that probably costs more than my entire apartment. I close the door and lean against it, my heart hammering. I'm in. Now I just have to figure out what Victoria discovered before she vanished. And pray I don't disappear too.