Chapter 5: The Rooftop Pact

It’s not like I never tried to study. But even with Leah’s knowledge, I barely managed for half a semester. My grades slipped fast after freshman year. Some people just aren’t built for this. Every late-night cram session ended with me staring blankly at the page.

It was so much easier to plan how to kill someone. The ideas came easy—like daydreams, but darker.

During high school, I tore through mystery novels and true crime docs. I stayed up late watching Netflix, scribbling notes on police forensics and alibi tricks while Mom slept. The cops had tech for everything. It amazed me how hard it was to get away with murder.

I came up with plans for Natalie, but every one had a fatal flaw. If the cops suspected homicide, they’d never let it go. It had to look like an accident, just like before. I spent hours sketching out possibilities in a battered spiral notebook, crossing out anything too risky.

Eventually, I found my angle. Natalie had a wild streak—dating sketchy boys, sneaking cigarettes in the girls’ room. I decided to use that. Two days before we left school, I started hinting we should go wild on our last night. I suggested sneaking onto the rooftop to drink during evening study hall. She hesitated, asking how we’d get alcohol in. "Are you serious? Just ask a day student," I said.

She didn’t answer at first. I shrugged. "If you don’t dare, forget it. I’ll go by myself. I don’t want any regrets." I watched her face carefully.

"Who says I don’t dare? I’m just thinking about what kind of alcohol to buy."

I lured her in: "How about just some beer?"

She rolled her eyes. "How boring is that? I’ll have my friend bring a couple bottles of whiskey for you to try."

I hid my excitement and feigned envy. "Damn, Nat, you’ve got way more guts than I do."

The night before we left school, she showed up with two bottles of whiskey. As we were about to head up, I tugged her sleeve, acting nervous: "Natalie, maybe we shouldn’t. What if the dean catches us?"

She grinned, braces flashing. "At this point, what are you afraid of? Even if we get caught, so what? We’re about to take the SATs—they have to care about our feelings."

She grabbed my wrist, pulling me along. I made sure to duck my head from the stairwell camera, just in case. The school was silent, that deep night hush.

The rooftop door was chained but not really locked. I let Natalie go first, watched her toss the chain aside, then followed. The city lights below looked like a thousand little escape routes, none of them meant for girls like us.

The breeze was cool, the sky sharp. Natalie was giddy, urging me to dump snacks onto a napkin. She yanked the cork out and poured whiskey into two disposable cups. "Cheers!" she yelled, then downed hers in one gulp, wincing at the burn.

I watched her throat work as she swallowed, heart pounding so loud I thought she might hear it. This was it. No turning back. She coughed, wiped her mouth, and grinned at me like she owned the world.

As the whiskey burned down her throat, I wondered—when she looked at me, did she see a friend, or her own ghost?