In a startling turn of events, my parents were the ones who wanted to keep me from returning to school, while I insisted on going back.

"We could homeschool you," my mom suggested.

That would be a disaster on multiple levels. "I'm good, mom, really. I'm ready to go back. April seems confident that it's a good move for me."

My mom nodded. April, my new therapist, had been a total rock since the incident. "Mom, I want to go back."

She gave me a hug and handed me a cup of coffee. "I'm proud of you, Mazie. You're braver than you ever gave yourself credit for."

For once, I didn't fight her touchy-feely parenting approach. "I'm pretty badass, aren't I? And I've got the scars to prove it."

It was more like a bruise than a scar, and two weeks after that incident, even that was nearly faded. Soon, the only scars I'd bare would be the ones I carried inside of me, scraping against the walls of my chest and my consciousness whenever I replayed the loop from that night.

Zeke choking me. Zeke pushing me to the ground. Darkness and then cold air. Dim light. A world without Jack. I pushed the thought of his absence away so my mom wouldn't see me cry.

A moment later, a car horn beeped from the driveway.

My father came in the side door with a newly emptied recycling bin. "Kayla's here. You got everything?"

"Yup." I slung my bookbag over my shoulder and took a last swig of coffee. "I'm fine, really. I could have returned to school a week ago."

"We love you so much, honey." My mom moved in for a hug and my father followed suit. A family hug. We hadn't done that since I was ten.

Thirty seconds later, I slid into the passenger seat next to Kayla. She'd been over nearly every day since the incident. Unlike my parents, Kayla wasn't closed lipped about what had happened and had filled in the gaps as soon as I was coherent again. The day after the dramatic confrontation, I found myself in a hospital, where I was being kept for observation. As soon as my parents left the room, Kayla told her tale.

When she'd arrived at my house, Ethan and Zeke passed her in the driveway. Ethan's hair was awry, his nose bloody. He supported Zeke, who limped along, grasping his arm like it would fall off if he let go of it.

"They both looked like hell," she told me. "I asked them what happened and why they were there, but they barely registered my existence. It was clear they wanted to get away as fast as possible. I freaked out and ran in the house and there you were, unconscious on the floor with Blake hovering over you."

"Did you see Jack?" I asked before remembering that she'd never been able to see him. "Never mind."

"I didn't see him, but... Blake looked stunned. He held a gun in his hand and for a second, I thought he'd shot you."

"He didn't."

"No. He'd gotten the gun and threatened the brothers with it. Told them he was calling the police and that's when they bolted. I think you getting hurt like that freaked them both out."

"They're both wannabe murderers, Kayla."

"I know, but Ethan's not..." She shrugged. "They're not good people and I hate what they did to you, so let's just leave it at that."

I couldn't do that, even for Kayla's sake. They'd fled, and then I had no idea what happened. "Are they still on the run?"

"State patrol nabbed them near the Idaho border this morning."

I leaned back in the hospital bed, finally feeling like I could breathe again.

Now, sitting next to her in the car, I tried not to replay that night, but instead focus on moving forward. "Remember," Kayla said, "people are going to stare. They've read the reports, they've all heard what happened. Just let them gawk. Let them talk. It makes no difference. Your friends have your back and always will."

The tightness in my chest eased. Surviving an attempted murder can really put things into perspective for you. What did it matter if people looked at me funny? Still, it was nice to have friends who cared.

"Have you talked to Blake?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "I don't know what to make of that boy, but he hasn't been communicating with anyone, not even to the other Populars. It's like he's ghosted them all." She glanced over and took in my crestfallen expression. "Sorry, poor choice of words."

"It's okay. Jack..." My voice broke as I said his name, but I kept going. "Jack wanted his life back. I thought maybe he'd gotten that, that Blake would become him, but he hasn't visited or even sent a text." I looked down at my lap. "I guess he ghosted me too."

When we arrived, Kayla insisted on walking me to homeroom. "If Dakota gives you a hard time, let me know. I'm no longer intimidated by her queenly ass."

Dakota, however, acted as if I didn't exist, which was fine with me.

She was the only one. Everyone else glared, just as Kayla had expected. Darren gave me a comforting smile. He had visited me with Kayla and Vanessa and knew just about everything that had happened, minus the creation and uncreation of a certain ghost.

The day proceeded like a regular school day, except that in my absence, I seemed to have gained some sort of fandom. No longer was I invisible Mazie, or slutty boyfriend stealing Mazie. Instead, I was the girl who almost died taking down two teenage miscreants.

I didn't want this label. What had happened with Ethan and Zeke was sad and unnecessary. I felt bad for their mother and father who would have to visit them in jail and endure a trial. Still, at least no one jeered at me. No one whispered slurs behind my back.

Blake didn't make an appearance at lunch. I saw no sign of him between classes. It seemed likely that he had written off school for the time being, but as I gathered my things and walked out to meet Kayla after school, there he was, leaning against the wall next to the exit.

He stared at me as I approached.

"How are you?" I asked him.

He blinked. "I don't know. Fine sometimes. Not fine other times. Confused."

I could relate to that. "Is that why you haven't contacted me? Because you're confused and sometimes not fine?"

He ran his hand through his hair and stared off into the distance. "I didn't know if you'd like me like this."

"Like what?"

His gaze shifted to my face. "It's my fault you were hurt."

"First you carried the weight of Zeke getting hurt, now this. Blake, neither case was your fault."

"But I involved you. I wanted so badly to figure out what was going on."

It was my turn to avoid eye contact. I stared at the brick wall next to his head. "What do you mean?"

"That's the thing, I don't know. I said I was confused. I've got bits and pieces of two lives I've lived over the past few months and they don't all fit together. I thought I was fine the night Zeke tried to kill us, but ever since then, my mind's been in chaos. I can't focus."

Bits and pieces of two lives. "What are you saying?"

"This is going to sound nuts, but did we watch Killer Klowns from Outer Space?"

His right foot tapped a few times as he waited for a response.

"Yes," I said, fighting back tears.

He nodded. "My parents think I should be evaluated for schizophrenia or... what did my mom call it? Dissociative identity disorder. She's been Googling my symptoms a lot."

"You don't have either of those. You don't have symptoms of any psychological disease."

"Then what?"

I thought about it a moment. "What happened to you—what Jack believed happened, was that you had died and that your spirit traveled back in time to try to prevent that death. I agree because I don't have a better explanation. I also think that something was taken from you so Jack could exist at the same time you were still walking around breathing. You weren't yourself, not totally, and he was never totally you. You were different versions of yourself existing simultaneously."

He nodded again. "That's about as good as I can figure it too. But my memories are still such a jumble. I have been able to figure out a few things, though."

"What?"

"Well, for one thing, the whole Populars system and all of the sycophants can shove it. I'm done with that."

"Wow, really?"

"Really. It doesn't seem to matter anymore."

"Okay, what else."

"One other thing that I remember about being Jack. I remember what I wanted to do more than anything."

"Be able to leave my house and be normal again?"

"Well yes, that would have been nice, but even more than that." He swept his hand along my chin. I shivered under his touch. Just like Jack. Just like Jack. "I wanted to touch you."

I stared at him. This boy who was Jack but wasn't Jack. He wasn't really Blake now either. He was someone different. Someone I would have to get to know. "I wanted that too."

"And one more thing. I wanted to do this."

I lifted my face as he pressed his lips to mine.