"You want faces to pale? Watch this," I said, dragging the thin rope until the swing above Room 203 whispered. "Do it, Kara. Scare us, loser," Veronica said, circling with Jordyn and two others like hyenas with matching manicures. "Don't call me that," I said, and my voice wasn't Kara's small, breaking thing. It had a tilt now, practiced and theatrical. Students in the back stopped scrolling and looked up. Veronica shoved me. The shove was light. The message wasn't. She wanted me to fold, to beg, to make a scene that would entertain her followers. I straightened. My shoulder hit the fan rope. "Playtime," I said. I wrapped my fingers around the rope like I owned it. "You will get detention," Jordyn hissed. "The principal—" "Will get a good show," I cut in. I had already started arranging props: pulling the pale scarf from my bag, spreading a smear of theatrical white under my eyes, folding Kara's long hair to look thinner and stranger. "You're such a freak," Veronica shouted. "We're going to—" "Stop." The room snapped silent because I sounded like someone delivering the final line of a horror trailer. My voice filled the rectangle of sunlight. "Watch carefully." "She's crazy," someone muttered. A boy in the front row lifted his phone. I smiled inwardly. Good. Cameras. "Do it then!" Veronica screamed. "Make me scared!" I climbed onto the desk without a word. My hands were steady. I hooked the rope