Chapter 1

The buzzing of my alarm clock was the first sound, 6:00 AM, SATURDAY. A day I now knew marked a rebirth, a second chance at a life stolen from me. I am Sarah Miller, an AP History teacher. Or I was. In my previous life, this day ended in my death.

Today, I woke up to the same faint scent of coffee my mom always brewed too early, the same sliver of sunlight cutting through my bedroom blinds.

But I wasn't the same Sarah.

The idealistic teacher who poured her soul into ungrateful students was gone, buried under the weight of betrayal.

The memory was vivid, a raw wound.

Ethan Vance, my top student, charismatic Student Council President, stood at the entrance of the Northwood High testing center, not leading the way in, but holding everyone back.

The entire senior class, my AP History students among them, waited.

For Jessica "Jessi" King.

The school's queen bee, perpetually late, perpetually causing trouble.

In that other life, my first life, I saw the minutes ticking down.

I remembered the knot in my stomach, the frantic urgency.

"Ethan, you have to get them inside! The check-in is strict!" I had pleaded.

He' d scoffed then, just as he was about to scoff now in this replayed moment.

I had forced them in, dragging Ethan almost by the arm, shouting over the din of their entitled protests.

Jessi, of course, missed the test.

Later that week, she found me alone in my classroom.

The glint of metal, a sharp, searing pain.

Then darkness.

Ethan, her devoted boyfriend, helped her.

They staged it as a suicide, fueled by my "guilt" over Jessi missing the SATs.

A perfect, tragic story.

Jessi became a media darling, the wronged student, showered with sympathy and a full scholarship to her dream college.

My parents, one on the School Board, the other an Assistant Superintendent, people of unwavering integrity, were destroyed.

Cyberbullies, fed by Jessi's lies, hounded them relentlessly.

They died within a year, heartbroken, their reputations in tatters.

Jessi orchestrated it all. I saw it, somehow, in the space between lives. I heard her gloating to Ethan, her words cold and clear, "She and her parents got what they deserved. Now I get what I deserve."

Then, a jolt, and I was back.

SATURDAY MORNING. 6:01 AM.

The same sunlight, the same coffee smell.

The same chance to face Ethan Vance at the testing center.

But this time, I knew.

This time, Sarah Miller would not be a martyr.

My well-being, my parents' reputations – those were my priorities now.

I had my PhD, my accolades, a job offer from a prestigious international school in Geneva already secured. My exit.

The memory of Jessi' s voice from that in-between place echoed, "She was always so easy to fool, thinking everyone was good. So pathetic."

Her words, meant to be a final insult, were now a shield.

I would not intervene.

Not this time.

I got dressed, my movements calm, deliberate.

The drive to Northwood High was familiar.

And there they were.

Ethan, arms crossed, looking impatient but resolute.

The cluster of seniors, a sea of anxious, easily swayed faces.

"Ms. Miller," Ethan's voice cut through the morning air, exactly as I remembered. "We're waiting for Jessi. She's on her way."

The same defiant tone, the same underlying accusation that I, the teacher, was the unreasonable one for even questioning their collective decision.

My heart ached, a dull throb of remembered pain, recalling how my efforts to help them, to push them towards responsibility, were always twisted into something malicious.

"She said you' d try to make us go in without her," a girl, Maya, piped up, "that you have it out for her."

Ethan nodded, "Yeah, Ms. Miller. It' s not fair to her if we all start without her."

Fairness. His version of it was so skewed.

The old Sarah would have argued, pleaded, explained the rules, the consequences.

The new Sarah looked at Ethan, at the expectant faces, and felt a profound, chilling disappointment.

This time, it was their choice, their consequence.