"I have to go, guys. Look at what my mom just texted me." I flip my phone screen around to display it to the girls. Having the same reaction that I did when I read the message, their jaws drop to the ground.

"Oh my god, go right now, girl," Kelsey urges me. "And tell us what it's about when you find out."

"I will, of course." Ashley, Kelsey, Samara, and I are a team now, meaning I must tell them any new information immediately.

"Also, I'll make sure to text more of the details of our plan when I get home." I add and they all nod as I take off running into the distance.

I'm filled with both thrill and nerves over Mom's cryptic message. The anticipation is slowly killing me as I wait patiently outside the mall for her car to pull up.

After what feels like an excruciatingly painful hour, I finally hear the screeching of the tires of my mom's polished white vehicle. I rush over and hop in the front seat as quick as possible.

"What is it?" I ask, immense fear evident in my voice. I turn toward the front seat, where my mom has her hands folded in her lap.

"Just look at the Denver News issue that was just delivered." My mom says in a shaky voice and I grab the newspaper gingerly. I am scared out of my mind for whatever it is that I'm about to view.

My eyes scan the top headline of the lengthy article and I immediately wish they hadn't. In a large, bold font, it reads, How Did Poppy Reinhart Really Die?

"What do they mean how did Poppy Reinhart really die? Is this article about me?" I ask my mom frantically, begging her for answers as to what is going on.

"Just keep reading." She replies with a sympathetic expression on her face, almost as if she feels sorry for me for what I will find.

Hesitantly, I look down and read silently, my eyes roving across the words on each page. When I feel completely light-headed and nauseated, I stop.

"Ryan?" Is the only word I can say.

To sum it up, the article explained how police have reinvestigated an old case, the death of Poppy, and came to a new conclusion. Ryan was the one that murdered Poppy and not me. I cannot believe my eyes.

"How do they even know I killed her? We made sure the police never heard about this." I remind her of the past precautions we had to take after the incident.

Two years ago, once I told her what happened, Mom was the one who wanted to keep it a secret from the police. I had suggested that we do what's morally right and allow me to go to jail since I deserved to be locked up for life. I couldn't even stand to look at my criminal self at that time.

However, my mom had assured me, "A 16 year old girl shouldn't have to be in prison just for a terrible mistake." It took a buttload of convincing to get me to agree and I still felt a massive amount of guilt afterward.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." Mom tells me, snapping me out of my thoughts and back to reality.

Almost as bad as the words that the article contains are the photos printed below every other paragraph. They are far too familiar, revealing a few pieces of evidence that I have been finding recently.

One photo shows the note from Poppy addressed to Ryan and another displays the cryptic message on the inside tag of her black dress. The two word message is said to have been addressed to me as an attempt for Poppy to beg for help to stop Ryan from "attacking her."

The last photo, one that I have seen numerous times, is Poppy's handwriting on the white wall at Burton's Coffee Shop, said to be Ryan's handwriting instead.

The entire three page long article fills me up with an unsettling feeling and I have no idea what to do with the fact that for the past two and a half years, I have been living in guilt for no reason at all. It feels as if a whole segment of my life has been nothing but a lie. I have been wasting it blaming myself for a crime that I didn't even commit.

"How did they get these photos?" I mutter to myself.

"What was that, honey? Are you okay?" My mom asks in a concerned tone, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"No." I say automatically, suddenly realizing that I desperately need to go outside and get some fresh air.

My heart continues to beat faster and faster out of my chest and my vision becomes even more hazy than it already was. Before I can fully process what's occurring, my body goes numb and I feel my weight start to shift toward one side of the car. Finally, a sharp pain shoots through the right side of my head and everything goes black.

"Ivy! Wake up, Ivy!" I hear the screech of a high-pitched voice.

Unlike the last time I woke up to a random voice, I have a slight idea of who it belongs to: Kelsey Sullivan. The bright and cheery sound of it is unmistakable. Although, I have zero clue as to why she would be at my house right now.

"What are you doing here?" I ask in a strained voice, struggling to prop myself up and out of my bed.

As I slowly regain consciousness and open my eyes, I realize that it's not just Kelsey, but also Ashley and Samara standing at the edge of my bed. Now I am even more confused.

"Well, basically you blacked out. We saw it happen through your mom's car window and asked her what was going on. She told us that these happen pretty regularly for you." Kelsey explains and everything begins to click.

"Yeah, we wanted to come home with you to make sure you were okay. And see what your mom found out that made this happen." Ashley adds.

My heart bursts with joy and appreciation realizing that the three of them truly do care about me.

"We don't want to rush you, though. You don't have to show us if you're not ready." Samara assures me, proving my point about them caring for me even further.

"No, it's okay. I actually need to tell you guys so I can hear what you think about it." I tell them, grabbing the newspaper from my nightstand.

"It's the newest issue of Denver News. Just look at it." I say, handing it to them and watching all of their eyes widen in reaction as they read.

"Do you think it's true?" Ashley questions, an incredulous look on her face.

"Probably not. News people make random shit up all the time." Samara replies, trying to wave it off. She's right, but I'm not sure if this is made up. It seems so real and that's what's scaring me.

"I don't know. What puts me on edge is the evidence photos. I haven't really told you guys, but those are some of the things I've been finding lately." I explain.

"That's weird. How did they find them?" Kelsey asks.

"Well, the only person who probably could've done it is Ryan," I begin. "But why would he frame himself like that?"

"Maybe someone else framed him to make him look bad." Samara suggests.

"Or they didn't actually frame him and he really did kill Poppy." I say and the knot in my stomach returns just thinking about the alleged truth.

"What's wrong, Ivy?" Ashley asks, noticing the sadness laced in my voice and putting a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"It should make me happy knowing that I didn't really kill Poppy, but it just doesn't. It's so weird thinking I did something wrong for so long and now, all of a sudden, I didn't." I vent, pouring my feelings out slightly more than I intended to.

"I completely understand. But, I think you're getting yourself a little too stressed out when you really shouldn't be." Ashley informs me and Samara and Kelsey, who stand close behind her, nod in agreement.

"You're right. Just let me tell you my plan for you know what." I make sure not to mention the words "killing Ryan" just in case my mom overhears.

Though I've been contemplating it, I still haven't told her about our master plan. She will either be completely on board with it or scold me to no end and I'm not ready to find out which of the extremes it will be.

"Okay, let's hear it." Samara says.

I take that as my cue to pull myself up and take a few steps toward my desk drawer, which holds four sheets of printer paper. I hand one to each of my three friends, keeping one for myself, and they look down in shock.

"I typed the plan out so you can all remember it." I explain with a satisfied smile plastered on my face.

"Now, this is dedication," Ashley jokes. "When did you have time for it?"

"I did it quickly this morning before we left for the mall." I explain.

I took the time to do it because I wanted to seem more professional. After I finished, I decided it was sort of stupid so I didn't bring the papers to the mall, but now the idea grew on me. My friends seem to love it as well, so that's a good sign.

"This is definitely going to help me because I'll tell you right now, I would never be able to remember all of this." Kelsey admits.

"We know, Kels. You probably can't even remember what you had for lunch the other day." Samara quips.

"Fair enough." Kelsey shrugs and we all burst into laughter. It's extremely difficult to stay on task with these three, but I don't mind at all.

"I hate to ruin the fun, but we need to get serious. Let me explain our master plan." They quiet down and face me, waiting patiently for my directions.

"First of all, we must meet up together late at night, when it's dark out. Does Monday night work for you guys?" I ask and they all nod resolutely.

Today is Saturday so that gives me one whole day to mentally prepare. If I need to skip school the day following the murder, I will without any second thoughts.

"Great. You guys can come to my house first and then we will walk to Ryan's since he lives close by. I am going to text him that I want to meet with him so he will be waiting outside. You guys can all wait a few streets down in a car," I hesitate, scared to say the next part of the plan. "The thing is, that car will be the one we kill Ryan with while he's distracted by me. I haven't figured out who's going to be driving yet."

"You know what, I can do it." Samara volunteers.

"Are you sure? You don't have to if you don't want to. I know-"

"Yes, I'm sure. This sounds psychotic, but I'm actually kind of excited." Samara cuts me off. I chuckle at her comment.

"Thank you so much, Samara. After about two minutes, you can start driving and I'll make sure to step out of the way as soon as you get close to him." Samara nods.

"One question. What will we do with the body once he's dead?" Kelsey queries, looking concerned.

I am about to respond and assure her that there's no need to worry since I have a perfect idea on how to cover up the murder, but a deafening sound stops me.

I whip my head around so quickly that the back of my head begins to sting slightly. The scene that plays behind me, however, gives me no time to care about that. As soon as I see Ryan, of all people, shimmying his way through my window, I scramble to stuff away all sheets of paper that display our plan.

"Speak of the devil." I mutter under my breath, low enough so that only Ashley, Kelsey, and Samara can hear me.

"Oh, all three of you are here. Even better!" Ryan exclaims when he approaches the other side of my bed, the half of the floor we are sitting on.

He seems awfully happy for someone who is being accused of murder in a newspaper article that all of our city is going to see.

"What do you want Ryan?" I ask testily, wanting to see his reaction before I start feigning kindness.

"Well, not much. I was just going to ask if you saw that news article about me." Ryan hesitantly says, beads of sweat forming on his face. Of course that's what this is about.

"Yeah, we did. What about it?" I ask, maintaining an even tone.

"The thing is, tons of people from our school are going after me now. I was wondering if-" He swallows before speaking again. "You guys could help me prove that I'm innocent?"