The following morning, I prayed that last night was a bad dream spurred by alcohol. I was pouring cereal and milk into two bowls when I heard the television in the living room. Carrying a bowl, I found Belmont sprawled on the couch, watching a news report.

His lips were no longer pale blue and the wound on the side of his head had healed, his appearance restored to normal. The screen showed the bridge at the Falls and Angela Starr, a journalist and notorious gossip often referred to as a soulless woman by my mother, was reporting on the police discovering his body in the lake. Invested in the report, he took the bowl from me.

"Aw, you're sweet, Byrne," he said, eating as Angela Starr gave a dramatic spin about his life. "Thanks for making me this."

I mentally counted to ten. "I didn't."

True to his demeanor, he treated me like I was the ghost, not him. "Why are you up so early? It's the weekend."

"I run ten miles before school. Doesn't everybody?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Gleeful, he told me that his death was dominating the morning news. His family revered as celebrities within the town, a story of his unexpected demise was a gold mine to the piranha-esque newshounds. The lower third of the screen read TOWN ROCKED BY DEATH OF BELOVED SON OF BELMONT FALLS, EXCLUSIVE DETAILS WITH AWARD-WINNING ANGELA STARR.

After I had gone to bed, he visited his home, where most ghosts tended to travel upon their death to be with their loved ones, and eavesdropped on the cops delivering the news to his distraught family. The cops deemed his death as an accident, a case of drunkenly falling off the bridge and into the shallow section of the lake.

"Accidents happen," I said, wondering why fate was punishing me.

"I've been drunk on that bridge thousands of times." He scooped cereal into his mouth. "I've never fallen once."

"Guess your luck ran out with the thousandth and one time." I retrieved the second bowl from the kitchen. "Why are you in my house? You're a ghost who can go anywhere. Tour the world."

"What is this crap?" he asked, spitting the cereal into the bowl. "It's gross. Don't you have Sugar Puffs or Cocoa Flakes? You never asked why I made my choice."

"Because you're a stubborn jackass," I surmised.

"It wasn't an accident," he said, refusing to listen to logic. "You're going to help me find out the truth."

I looked at my Spider-Gwen tee. "Did I become a cop overnight? Nope, no badge."

Belmont argued that the cops in the town were lazy, incompetent oafs who would rather do nothing than actual work. Parker's father, the chief of police, had a reputation for taking bribes to keep certain incidents quiet, using his position of power to prevent his son and his friends from facing consequences.

For ninety percent of Belmont Falls, that was a known fact. Justice was not a given in the town, not when it meant holding the wealthier inhabitants accountable for their deeds. When my father died, a year after I gained my reaper abilities, the department ruled it an accident without a proper investigation. Belmont suggested that his alleged murderer paid off Chief Parker.

"Prove me wrong," he challenged. "Let's go back to the bridge."

"When cops are swarming it for clues?" I asked, thinking that his head injury had permanently damaged his brain. "I'm not getting arrested for trespassing on a crime scene."

"It's five thirty in the morning. They're at Dottie's Diner," he said, knowledgeable of their daily routine.

"They could be on a trip to Disney World for the year. I am not going near that bridge." I muted the news with the remote. "Why is it so hard to accept that you were incredibly drunk, fell, and hit your head on the rocks?"

"Because I didn't," he affirmed, plainly. "We're going there or I'll pull all kinds of ghost pranks at school then pin it on you to get you expelled. It's up to you, Byrne."

Elena entered the living room, biting into a red apple. She had spent the night visiting relatives, including her eighty year old grandmother who lived in a nursing home and suffered from dementia.

"She was watching this black and white mov—why is he on your couch?" Her retelling of her visit was ceased as she spotted Belmont. "Did he stalk you home after I hit him? Tessa, don't tell me you felt bad and let him sleep it off."

"Elena," I whispered.

"You can't be this nice. Who knows what he could've done while he was drunk? Wait, did he try something?" she asked, suspiciously. "I know his tricks."

Belmont rose from the couch, dumbfounded. He stared at Elena like she was a three-headed dragon.

"E—Ellie?"

Elena stopped biting into the apple and looked from him to me. Nodding to the news report, I told her that the vision had been about him, not Katie, and his decision to live as a temporary ghost. The apple quivered in her hands, her eyes on the image of his bloody varsity jacket on the screen.

As he stepped towards her, she instinctively moved behind me. This was one of the reasons I hoped he chose to pass on, his presence alone putting her on edge.

"You stayed behind too? Byrne can see you?" he asked, unsure if he was hallucinating.

She did not acknowledge him. "Come on, Tessa."

"We need to stop at the Falls. He wants to prove that his death wasn't an accident. We'll indulge his fantasies for a minute and then we can go," I promised her.

The drive to the Falls was more awkward, if possible, than last night. Elena would prefer drowning in acid over being around him. Belmont struggled to comprehend how he was seeing her, despite my explanation that both of them were ghosts. A small part of me knew that it must be difficult for him since she had been dead and suddenly, he could see her again as though she never died in the car accident that occurred in May of our sophomore year.

He and Elena had been friends since birth, rarely spending time apart and that friendship blossoming into a short relationship. Prior to the breakup, she would cheer him on at his games and whether they were at school or at a local diner, they were inseparable. It was a stark contrast to now, where she acted like he blended into the seat.

The police cars had disappeared from the entrance to the Falls. In addition to the sign and lock missing from the gate, the crime scene tape was sloppily torn apart, an example of their incompetence. The tension in the car lingered as we approached the bridge, Elena resistant to his efforts to get her to speak to him. If a stranger passed through the woods, they would have no inkling that someone had died there less than twenty four hours ago, no sign to ward off visitors, no markers for potential clues, and no cops investigating the scene.

"Nothing. Can we go?" asked Elena, impatiently.

I noticed sets of muddy scuff marks on the deck of the bridge, by the Belmont Bridge sign and a foot past it, and a series of scratches on the railing. When I pointed them out, Elena proposed that the scratches could be from Katie's nails while grappling with the shadow creature. I would have readily agreed with her if not for the second set of markings further along the railing, chipped red nail polish around the edges.

"Maybe he's right," I said, surprised that I was about to side with Belmont. "These are hers. She had on red nail polish to match her skirt."

She pulled me away from the railing. "Tessa, those scratches could've been a squirrel."

My mind spinning with theories, I lifted Belmont's hand. "Most of your injuries would've healed but in the days after, ghosts can still have traces of how they were when they died. Dirt on your clothes, a hole from a gunshot...and he has wood shavings under his nails. What if he was holding onto the railing and—"

"No," interrupted Elena. "He's an idiot who fell over, tried to pull himself up but couldn't hold on, and he died from drowning or hitting his head. That's it. Just because he's being a giant brat, it doesn't mean you have to join him in crazy town. What are you doing?"

I walked over to a nearby shed where the beautification committee, a group of people dedicated to preserving the land, stored their equipment. Grabbing a coil of rope and a plastic jar, I returned to the bridge and tied one end around the railing.

"Tessa, you can't," she said, as I tied the other end around my waist. "You're not a teenage detective. This isn't a TV show. This is reality. Don't climb over that railing. What if the cops show up?"

"Why wouldn't they lock the gate or block the path to the bridge?" I asked, finding it odd that the police seemingly abandoned the crime scene. "There might be a clue that can explain how he fell."

"He was drunk," she declared. "Mystery solved."

"Are you listening to her?" asked Belmont, as I tightened the rope.

Elena threw him a look of deep hatred. "Don't act like you give a damn about her," she spat. "You're just siding with her because she's playing into your delusions."

"You're talking to me?" he asked, hopefully.

Her lip curled. "I can barely say a word to you without puking but I'll risk that to stop Tessa from dying too."

"Why are you being such a bitch, Ellie?" he snapped, abandoning the kindness he solely reserved for her when she was alive.

"It's Elena to you!" Slightly flushed, she stomped her foot. "No, you know what? Don't talk to me anymore. Tessa and I are leaving and you can—Tessa, wait!"

I swung my legs over the railing and descended the side of the bridge. Though I was determined to not look down, I was aware of the far drop if the rope broke, reliving the memory of climbing the gate.

My stomach churning, I breathed in and out and focused on the bridge to search for any clues. Dried blood was splattered on the railing, zigzagging the length of the wooden post closest to the scratches. The police could not have missed such an obvious sight. Tracing it to the underside, I saw a navy blue and white fabric nestled in the wooden boards.

I jiggled it loose, pulling out a torn piece of Belmont's varsity jacket. Amidst the black powder coating the fabric was a sterling silver ring with a brownish red stone, Celtic symbols carved into the silver.

"Tessa!" shouted Elena.

I dropped the ring and fabric into the plastic jar. "Tessa?"

"Oh no, not him. No, no, shit," I whispered.

"Tessa," the deep voice repeated.

Dr. Baxter, dressed in a muscle tee, sweatpants, and sneakers, leaned over the railing. As he removed his earbuds, I tried to think of an excuse for why I was dangling from the bridge. I pulled myself up, seeing Elena and Belmont behind him with very different expressions. Elena was primed to knock out Dr. Baxter with a rock while Belmont was acting like it was a minor inconvenience.

"Dr. Baxter, hi," I said, failing to sound easygoing . "What are you doing out here early in the morning?"

"I go for a run through the Falls three times a day," he replied.

"No kidding." I was seconds from crumbling under pressure. "You must love running. Good for you. That's great. Yay exercise."

He crossed his arms over his chest, not falling for my attempt at distraction. "And why are you out here, hanging from a rope?"

"I was uh practicing this exercise that my dad learned about while he's in Greece," Elena mimed that she was ready to attack him. "They hold onto the rope and—you know what? It's weird with tons of steps. Why bore you with details?"

"You must've heard about what happened to Fin Belmont last night," he said, concerned.

Relieved that he believed my lie, I lowered my head. "Y—yeah, it's um such a tragedy."

"You should stay away from here." It was more of an order than a suggestion. "We don't need two students dying in the same week."

I could not dare to meet his gaze. "I'll let you get back to your run."

I raced to my car. If Dr. Baxter was not my teacher, I would be avoiding him for the rest of the day. Belmont mocked my pitiful lying skills and wondered aloud about Dr. Baxter reporting my suspicious behavior to the police. His taunts led to a vicious squabble between him and Elena, who blamed him for putting me in danger, persisting through the drive-thru for our traditional morning coffee, a tradition that unfortunately had to include Belmont.

I drove into the local cemetery. "Did you find clues?" he asked, propping his shoes on the back of Elena's seat.

Crinkling her nose, she left the car. "My mother is on the beautification committee and they wash that bridge twice a week. The last cleaning was yesterday morning. The blood on the post had to be yours. You could've gotten the cut on your head before you fell, which means there could've been a fight." I showed him the jar with the fabric and the ring. "Jogging your memory?"

"The ring isn't mine." He rotated the jar. "What's that powder?"

"My forensic expertise doesn't go beyond kid science kits but from bingeing crime shows, I'd say it's gun powder. If you had a bullet wound, you would've mentioned it so there's no guarantee it's related," I said, hoping it would satisfy his curiosity. "People hunt in those woods. A hunter could've been shooting on the bridge. You wanted to prove that it wasn't an accident and I believe you. Ready to make your final choice and quit hiding behind this third option cheat?"

"No," he said, drinking his coffee. "We haven't caught the guy."

Damn it.

"Are you—Elena's right. I'm not a detective." As I said it, I thought of the voice from my visions. "I'm sorry that the cops ruled it an accident but it's not my problem."

"You told Elena that you had a vision about what would happen to me. You assumed it was Nelson's stepsister. Didn't you try to save her?" he asked, striking a nerve. "You do care about what happened to me."

I angrily tore into my chocolate croissant. "I did go to your overrated party because of my vision. I—I had a feeling that it wasn't the person's time, which goes against everything I've been taught, but even if I could somehow find your killer, it won't bring you back to life."

"But it would stop them from killing someone else in town and if you caught them, you wouldn't have to suffer another painful death. I drowned. What if the next person gets their throat slit or they're buried alive?" he asked, mournfully. "That must be rough."

My eyes narrowed at him through the rear view mirror, not deceived by his faux pity. Belmont was not sympathetic towards me or the pain I experienced the past ten years. His intentions were purely selfish. My grip tightened on the wheel, as I reminded myself to not punch him.

I crumpled up the bag to vent my frustrations. "Don't do that. You're baiting me into—you don't know what I go through, Belmont. It's not a fun superpower out of a comic book. You're not dragging me into your shit."

"I just thought you'd be kind enough to help, Byrne," he said, innocently. "What are we doing at the cemetery? Do you do freaky witch stuff? Summon the dead?"

"Elena and I come here every morning to visit her family." She was sitting in front of a tombstone. "We've done it ever since their funeral. They passed on but she likes to talk to them. She thinks they can hear her."

"You come here every day?" he asked, flummoxed.

I threatened to force him to pass onto the afterlife and straight to Hell if he revealed the truth to Elena. The aggression in my voice sold it as a definite fact though it was, in actuality, a fib. He was clueless to the full extent of my abilities, making him gullible.

"Unless you have a reason to stay, besides that, take my advice and pass on," I said, as Elena laid flowers on the tombstone. "I get that you have questions but you might not like the answers."

With or without the influence of a bribe, the police may have chose to move on from Belmont's death, forgoing an official investigation, but the town could not put aside their grief. On Monday morning, his locker was adorned with flowers, posters, and candles and before homeroom, most of the school's female population was gathered around it, a flock of sniffling, sobbing, devastated girls.

A memorial was scheduled for him later in the week on the football field and exams were cancelled to allow the students to grieve over the loss. The school had not been in such a somber mood since the news of Elena's death spread like wildfire after the accident.

In every class, the first ten minutes were spent eulogizing him, each teacher describing him as a special and amazing boy with a bright future. Belmont soaked up the praise but among the weeping students, I noticed a few who were apathetic or delighted that he was gone and even behind the tears of those who were grieving, there were hints of a smile or a relieved sigh, proof that it was a performance to fit the mold of 'what was expected' of them. His ego the size of a football stadium made him oblivious to the truth that in all honesty, they would not miss him.

Biology was the worst class of the day, mostly because of my own anxiety that Dr. Baxter remembered our encounter on the bridge. He seemed to have no memory of it, calling me every other name except my real one, but as he played a video on photosynthesis, I was unable to shake the uncomfortable knot in my chest. I was never happier to hear the bell ring, signaling the end of class.

"I'll meet you in the courtyard, Tessa. I need to drop these off for Mrs. Gable," said Will, holding up fliers. "She's terrible with computers."

He darted past the students, knocking over a stack of papers on Dr. Baxter's desk, and apologized as he left the classroom. The other students followed him, laughing at Will's clumsiness and an exasperated Dr. Baxter.

"Tessa," I heard as I reached the door.

Reluctantly, I turned to Dr. Baxter. "Y—yes?"

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, placing the papers in a drawer. "You appeared to be a little...distracted during class."

"I didn't get much sleep last night," I lied. "It won't happen again."

Dr. Baxter chuckled. "You're not in trouble. You and Will are the only ones who pay attention in this class. It gives you a pass to get distracted every once in awhile. I hope it doesn't have to do with Saturday."

If I had super strength, my fingers would have cut through my backpack strap. Did he report what he saw to the police? Would I come home to find Chief Parker in my living room to interrogate me? My anxiety skyrocketed and I debated faking a fainting incident.

"N—nope," I said, my voice higher pitched. "Saturday? Oh, with the...it slipped my mind until you brought it up. I didn't know that you went running by the Falls. I mean, a lot of people do but three times a day. That's intense."

"I like to keep fit," he said, evident by his muscular build. "You don't strike me as the type of person that's into exercise. Crunches and a treadmill maybe but dangling from a thin rope? Not really."

"My dad's idea. He pushes me to try new and exciting things but I'm not as much of a thrill seeker as him. That would be my brother. Like father, like son," I joked. "Crunches are my jam."

He grinned. "If you ask me, I can tell that you've got a nice body, even under those loose shirts. It's a shame you hide it. You should have more confidence in yourself."

His words would have been inspiring, if they had come from a self-help book or my mother. If Belmont had made that comment, it would earn him a bloody lip or a black eye. That it was said by a teacher with an unsettling grin upped the creep factor. It was reminiscent of his flirtations with my mother.

"Heh, I'll definitely work on it. I should get going. I'm meeting Will in the courtyard," I said, inching towards the door.

Before I was out of the room, he grabbed my wrist. The hallways were mostly empty except for a handful of students at their lockers.

"You could start by wearing that little red jacket more often," he whispered in my ear, his other hand dangerously close to my waist.

"I—I really need to leave," I stuttered.

I wrenched my wrist from him and hurried down the hallway, feeling his eyes burning into my back. Entering the courtyard, I sat at a rickety, graffitied round table in the corner and hid vulgar drawings and Need some good weed? Meet me under the bleachers at 3 with my Chemistry textbook.

Elena joined me at the table, taking a tupperware container of strawberries from my bag.

My foot was tapping against the ground at a rapid pace.

"Why do you look like you saw a gh—that doesn't work with you. What's the equivalent of seeing a ghost to a reaper?" she asked, opening the container. "How was Bio?"

If I told her about Dr. Baxter, she would murder him without hesitation. "Same as every class today. Belmont was a perfect angel who deserved the world and we should cry about him instead of learning useful information."

"Ugh and the Oscar goes to Belmont High. You haven't smiled since the jackass decided to haunt us. I have nicknames for him but I don't want to taint your virgin ears," she said, licking a strawberry.

I giggled, prodding her arm with my pencil. "Would you stop?"

"Why? It's making you smile." She licked it again. "You like it."

"I remember how good you are at licking stuff," said Belmont, sitting on the other side of me.

Disgusted, Elena threw the strawberry at him. I thought my speech at the cemetery would encourage him to move on from this obsession with his death but it fell on deaf ears.

"Why can't you leave?" she asked, as he chucked the strawberry back at her.

"Okay. Let me get my phone and call up my ghost buddies," he said, dialing an imaginary phone. "Oh wait, it's just you, Ellie."

"Go to Vegas," she suggested, tossing back her hair. "You'd fit right in with the douchebag ghosts."

I buried my face in my hands as her scathing remark sparked another argument. Everyone else in the courtyard was able to have a normal lunch but I was trapped between two ghost teenagers arguing like kids on a playground. It had devolved into an exchange of rude insults, mainly from Elena, when Will sat at the table.

"Sorry. Mrs. Gable was going on and on about our trip to the Saenger Theatre in November," he said, opening his textbook.

Dr. Baxter's words continued to haunt me. "Can I ask you a weird question? It's about the party."

"The topic of the day, apparently. I bet you fifty bucks that Principal Hilton paid the teachers off and wrote those speeches for them." I jammed my pencil into Belmont's thigh, to stop him from lunging at Will. "An old friend of my dad's from the police department was over for dinner Saturday night. He says they're trying to figure out how no one saw Fin fall off that bridge. He wasn't that drunk when we were there."

"Did you see Dr. Baxter at the party?" I asked, afraid of the answer.

He looked at me, perplexed. "Why would he be at a high school party? I know it's a joke that he's like a teenager in an adult's body but he wouldn't be foolish enough to go to a party thrown by a students. Why?"

"A junior girl in the bathroom was saying she saw him get a beer," I said, passing off my fears as paranoia. "I figured it was gossip. Hilton's always hinting at him to come but yeah, he wouldn't do it. A kegger isn't worth getting fired."

Will and I could not concentrate on our chemistry assignment, due to the noise from the stoner pit. It was the hangout spot for the popular kids during lunch. As I balanced a chemical equation, I was hit in the back of the head. I glanced from the paper ball on the ground to Belmont, who was covering Elena's mouth to silence her.

"Listen to what they're saying," he urged, nodding towards the stoner pit.

"Why?" I mouthed.

Elena scratched at him with her freshly manicured nails. "To piss off Ellie that they cared more about me than her."

I was dealing with an immature toddler. "Will, do you want to go to the library? They're kind of loud."

"It's not that bad," he said, the constant drumming of his pencil telling a different story. "I'm—"

A beer can flew over the wall and crashed onto the table, spilling onto our textbooks. Irritated by the raucous laughter, I picked up the empty can.

"Tessa, don't."

I strode over to the stoner pit, overcome with the smell of smoke. Hilton, Parker, and other friends of Belmont's were sitting on the benches and staircase, talking amongst themselves.

"Aw, it's Belmont High's cutest couple: Make A Wish and King Dork. Is this where you have steamy make out sessions?" sneered Hilton.

"Anna, what happened? You looked sexy at the party and now you're back to that?" asked Parker, sipping from a bottle of tequila.

I tossed the beer can into a trash bin. "You want to act like a pack of drunken idiots? Cool but can you watch where you throw—"

"Can you smoke?" he asked abruptly. "Or would that mess up your meds? You can celebrate with us."

"Uh sorry, what are you celebrating?" wondered Will, trying to not inhale smoke.

Parker raised the bottle into the air. "The end of Fin Belmont and the beginning of my reign as king of this school."

"Chace, he just died," chided Amity.

"Good riddance to the idiot. He thought he was such tough shit but his time was coming, sooner or later," he said, with no trace of remorse. "The teachers have to say it but we don't, Ames. It's not like he was the greatest guy. We hung out with him because he was a Belmont. I wish I could've been there to record it. Hear him beg a little...I bet he was crying like a baby."

"He fell off the bridge by accident. Why would he be begging?" I asked, sensing something off about him.

Parker leapt down from the staircase and snaked his arm around my waist. It was not only his words that were peculiar, but his mannerisms. Many of his friends seemed uneasy with his indifference towards Belmont's death. For a brief second, Belmont looked visibly hurt by Parker's remarks but it was swiftly substituted with a stern glare and clenched fists.

"Don't be a downer, Jemma," he whined. "Fin treated you like crap but now that I'm in charge, I'm willing to give you a clean slate. Imagine that sexy body in a cheerleading outfit."

Behind my back, I twirled my finger in a clockwise motion, a warning for Elena to stay by the wall. She did not appreciate Parker putting his grimy hands on me.

"Can you not make me gag?" mumbled Hilton, lighting up a cigarette.

"Leave her alone, Parker," said Will, puffing up his chest.

Parker smirked, the other boys chanting for a fight. While Will had the brains, Parker was all brawn, his muscles and his 6′3" stature making an intimidating combination.

"Ooh, are you going to make me, Nelson?" he taunted.

"Some friend you are," said Will, with contempt. "Making plans to take over as head of your stupid clique barely a day after your best friend died..."

I wiggled out of Parker's grasp. "Will, reasoning with these idiots is pointless. Let's go."

As we walked to the library, I found myself more concerned with Belmont than my chemistry assignment. I had plenty of suspicions that his death was not an accident but I had been willing to accept that it was at the hands of a random stranger that he provoked while immensely drunk.

To an outsider, Belmont Falls was a picturesque town but its residents knew that there was a dark underbelly beneath the facade. Those undesirable aspects, such as people struggling with alcoholism and drug addiction, got swept under the rug, sent away from the town or placed in a sort of isolation.

By the end of lunch, I was certain that there was much more to the story of his death and the murderer was someone close to him, possibly his best friend.