The ball night..

After everything that had happened—the farmhouse, the trials, the blood, the screaming—it was finally time for a break.

Our high school was starting again in a week, and honestly, we all needed a breather before that storm hit. So we decided: one week of peace.

Chloe, being the literal angel she is, invited Peter to stay with her since he didn't really have family around. "You need some normalcy, dude," she'd said. "And popcorn and horror movies and me being annoying."

I, on the other hand, promised myself and my mom that I'd spend real time with her. No secrets, no lies, no hidden powers. Just Emma and Mom time.

Those days were slow and sweet.

We baked cookies, she forced me to learn how to iron clothes properly ("You're going to college in three years, Em!"), and we even had one of those girly nights where she did my nails while we watched cheesy rom-coms from the 2000s.

One night, while sipping coffee on the couch, I looked at her and asked quietly, "Was I always like this?"

My mom looked up from her book. "Like what?"

"You know… intense. Scary. Broken."

She smiled, a sad kind of smile. "You were always strong. But yeah… there were moments when I looked at you and thought—this girl's carrying galaxies she doesn't even understand yet."

"Do you think I'll be okay?" I asked, not sure why I even did.

She placed her hand over mine. "You already are."

THE BALL NIGHT

It crept up faster than expected.

I never cared about school balls. I was the hoodie-and-converse queen. Every year, I'd show up in my oversized zip-up, grab a soda, laugh at everyone trying to walk in heels, then peace out before the slow dance. It was a routine.

But this time… things changed.

Two days before the ball, a mysterious package arrived at our door. No note. Just a box with a dress inside. A gorgeous dress. Light pink, with a body-hugging top that flowed into a soft, fairy-like cascade of tulle and tiny hand-stitched flowers.

I held it up and stared.

"Who sent this?" I whispered.

My mom peeked from the kitchen and gasped. "Oh my… that's beautiful. You're wearing this."

"No way. This looks uncomfortable. And fancy. And I'm not Cinderella, mom."

She grinned. "Then let me be your fairy godmother."

And just like that, it was decided.

The night of the ball, I stood in front of the mirror in my room, the dress laid out on the bed like it was waiting to be part of a transformation scene in a movie.

After trying to bail 100 times—yes, exactly 100—I gave in.

My mom curled my hair into soft waves, sliding tiny flower pins into them. She dusted blush onto my cheeks, dabbed on pink lipstick, gave me light mascara, and highlighter (which I didn't even know existed in our house).

And then she handed me heels.

I panicked.

But when I put them on—I didn't wobble. I didn't fall. In fact, I walked like I'd been doing it all my life.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

And for once… I didn't hate what I saw.

"You're beautiful," my mom whispered behind me, teary-eyed. "Your dad would've cried seeing you like this."

ARRIVAL

As we reached the venue, people were already dancing under shimmering lights, neon decorations casting colorful glows across everyone's faces.

I stepped out of the car.

And as I walked down the long marble staircase of the school auditorium, I felt the silence before the storm.

Every pair of eyes turned to me.

Whispers floated through the air like snowflakes.

"Is that Emma?"

"She looks—holy crap."

"Who knew she was actually hot?"

"Is that dress custom?"

"Bro she's glowing."

Mrs. Grace stood by the teacher's table, her jaw slightly open, a hand to her heart. And for once, that cold strict look on her face softened… into pride.

I looked for one thing only.

Hazel eyes.

And I found them.

Peter was standing with Chloe near the punch table. He turned. Saw me.

And froze.

His eyes widened, his lips parted like he wanted to say something but forgot how to speak. Chloe looked at him, then at me, then shrieked across the room:

"OMG BABYGIRL WTF YOU LOOK SO GOOD! I WOULD TOTALLY FALL FOR YOU RIGHT NOW!"

I laughed out loud, my cheeks going red.

Before Peter could move toward me, someone else did.

Edward.

Tall, dressed in a perfectly fitted tux, hair slightly messy but in that totally intentional way. His smile was calm and confident.

"May I?" he said, offering his hand.

I blinked. "Umm…"

"You have to dance at least once, and I'll make sure it's the best one."

And how could I say no to that?

We danced.

And he was good. Like, really good. His hands were steady, guiding me gently, making me feel like I actually belonged in this world of ballgowns and sparkly chandeliers.

He leaned in mid-dance. "I gotta say, Emma Blanders in a dress? I did not see that coming."

I smirked. "Neither did I."

He laughed. "You look like you walked out of a dream."

My eyes drifted over to Peter, who was now dancing stiffly with Chloe, but his eyes—those beautiful eyes—were locked on me.

He looked… jealous.

Chloe noticed.

She leaned into Peter and whispered something. Next thing I knew, she twirled away, caught Edward in mid-spin, and said, "I'm stealing him. Sorry, important girl business."

Edward looked confused but laughed. "She's aggressive," he said, stepping back.

And then there was Peter. Standing in front of me. Awkward, fidgety, biting the inside of his cheek.

"You look…" he started.

"Yes?" I teased.

"Like you just made every guy in the room stop breathing."

"Even you?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Especially me."

I smiled, heart thumping.

He held out his hand. "Dance with me?"

We danced.

Slow, quiet, barely moving. My head on his shoulder, his hand on the small of my back.

"I missed this," he whispered.

"We never had this," I replied.

"Exactly. And I already miss it."

We didn't say anything for a while.

Then he leaned in. "I wanted to say something… about that kiss."

I looked up.

"It wasn't just to stop you. I think I've been waiting for a moment to kiss you for… forever."

My heart exploded.

"Then why didn't you before?" I asked softly.

"Because I didn't want it to be in pain. I want it to be this," he said, spinning me gently, then catching me back into his arms.

Right then, under the lights, with laughter all around and slow music playing—

I realized something.

Maybe I wasn't a monster.

Maybe… I was just a girl learning how to be loved.

The night ended like something straight out of a fairytale.

One final slow dance. Peter and I, tangled in each other's silence. No words, just heartbeats syncing. Then the music faded, the lights dimmed, and the magic slowly untangled itself back into real life.

I stood outside the hall, holding my heels in one hand, breathing in the cool night air. My curls were a little messy now, mascara smudged just slightly under my eyes—but I'd never felt more like myself.

Peter came up beside me, quiet.

He didn't say anything at first. Just stood there.

"Hey," I finally said.

He looked at me, smiling. "Hey."

We just stood there for a while. Until he asked, "Wanna walk?"

So we did. Barefoot, on the stone path behind the auditorium, the distant sound of music fading into the trees.

"I've never seen you like that," he said.

"Like what?"

"Open. Light. Free."

"I guess… for one night, I allowed myself to be a girl instead of a ghost," I whispered.

Peter looked at me, eyes soft. "You're not a ghost, Emma."

"Sometimes I feel like one."

He stopped, turning toward me. "Then I'll be the idiot who keeps haunting you back to life."

I looked up at him, heart pounding again like it did at the farmhouse, at the garage, at the moment he kissed me.

And just when I thought he might kiss me again—

"Emma!"

Chloe's voice cut through the air like an excited knife. She came running in her silver heels, practically dragging Edward behind her.

"Group sleepover at my place. Mandatory. You too, fairy princess."

I rolled my eyes. "But I'm—"

"No buts. You're not ending the best night of your life alone in your room eating leftover cake. Come. On."

Peter looked at me, eyes laughing. "You heard the boss."

--

AT CHLOE'S HOUSE – LIVING ROOM SCENE

We ended up sprawled across Chloe's living room floor. She brought snacks. Edward tried to open a soda can and accidentally sprayed it across her rug.

"Idiot!" she screamed.

"Oops," he grinned, completely unapologetic.

Peter sat beside me on the couch. Every now and then, our arms would brush, and each time it did, I forgot how to breathe properly.

Chloe flopped onto a beanbag. "Okay, serious question time."

I groaned. "Nooo…"

"Yes," she insisted. "If you had to go on a road trip with just one person in this room, who would it be?"

Edward smirked. "Clearly me."

"Nope," Chloe said. "Emma goes first."

I raised an eyebrow. Looked around.

Then dramatically placed the back of my hand on my forehead like I was in a soap opera. "Ugh. If I had to go on a road trip with one of you, I'd rather drive myself off a cliff than be stuck in a car with this idiot."

I jabbed a thumb at Peter.

He gasped. "Wow. That hurts. Deep."

"Good," I said sweetly. "Now you know what it feels like to listen to yourself talk for longer than two minutes."

Edward burst out laughing. Chloe nearly fell off her beanbag.

Peter just gave me this half-smirk like he was secretly enjoying every second of it.

"I take it back," he said. "Put me in that car with her. Seatbelt off. No brakes."

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling too hard to fight it.

THE NEXT MORNING

The sunlight came pouring through Chloe's curtains.

Peter was sleeping on the floor near the couch. His hoodie had ridden up slightly and he looked like a peaceful little mess.

I tiptoed to the kitchen, trying not to wake anyone, when Chloe joined me, yawning.

"So," she said, grabbing juice from the fridge. "You two gonna kiss again or what?"

I choked. "Chloe!"

She wiggled her brows. "You like him."

"I do."

"He likes you."

"He does?"

"Emma," she said, putting her hand on my shoulder. "He was looking at you last night like you were the only real thing left in this universe."

---

BACK TO SCHOOL

The break ended, and high school began again.

It was strange walking into the hallway and not hearing Amanda's voice shrieking in the distance. Rumor was, she transferred out after the locker incident. I still didn't fully understand what happened that day… but part of me was afraid to know.

The whispers returned—but this time they weren't filled with fear or hate.

They were filled with curiosity.

"That's the girl who made Amanda cry blood, right?"

"She's hot and dangerous. That's kinda hot."

"Do you think she's dating Peter?"

Peter stayed close. Chloe stayed closer.

Edward now had his own fan club, apparently.

Mrs. Grace gave me a knowing nod when I passed her in the hallway. "You clean up nice, Miss Blanders."

And somehow… life began to feel normal.

Until that day.

---

THE PHOTO

We were in the library. Chloe had just finished printing out an old news clipping for history class. She came running toward us, a weird look on her face.

"Guys," she said. "You need to see this."

It was an article from 1973. About a mysterious fire at a mansion on the edge of town. But it wasn't the article that made my knees buckle.

It was the photo beside it.

A mural on the wall—blackened by flames—but barely visible, were the faces of a girl and a boy.

The girl looked exactly like me.

And the boy? Same mole. Same hazel eyes. Peter.

Peter stared at it, frozen.

Chloe looked between us. "What the hell is going on?"

I touched the photo with shaking fingers. My breath catching.

"I think… we've been here before."