I gape at Ryan, hardly able to believe his nerve. First, he breaks into my house through my fucking window-so creepy- and now he expects me to help him? What did he ever do to help me that he deserves the favor returned?

Plus, how am I even supposed to know if he really is innocent or not? He has not earned my trust at all.

However, I don't let him know this since his request will be very helpful for my plan.

"So?" He asks again, fear etched into his features.

"Hold on for a second. We need to talk privately in the hall first." I say, leading my three confused friends out my bedroom door.

"What are we going to do?" Kelsey questions and something in me revels in the fact that she's turning to me for guidance. I don't know if it's selfish, but a small part of me adores practically being the leader of our scheme.

"You know how I said that I was going to pretend to meet with Ryan for our plan?" I start and continue after they all nod. "Well, I didn't really have an idea on what, exactly, I was going to meet with him about."

"So, you're going to pretend to meet with him about this." Kelsey fills the blank, reading my mind exactly.

"Correct. We'll say yes to helping him prove his innocence and I'll text him tommorow about meeting up to talk more about it." I finish explaining.

"Okay, so we're going to be fake nice to him right now?" Samara clarifies.

"I know it's hard for you Samara, but yeah." I tease, making the girls completely crack up.

We settle down quickly after, being cautious of Ryan hearing, and take a few tentative steps back into my bedroom.

"We've made our decision," I start telling Ryan, making him squirm with anticipation. "We will do whatever you need to help you out." His face brightens as soon as the words leave my mouth.

"Thank you so much. I had a feeling you were going to help. I'm glad I can trust you guys." Ryan exclaims, looking as if he just spent an entire twenty-four hours on cloud nine. The irony in his words "I can trust you" makes me want to burst into laughter and I immediately admonish myself for it. I shouldn't find murder funny.

It's not like I want to kill Ryan, but I have to. It's what Poppy would want and it's even more justified now that there's official rumors that he killed her.

"Of course. We're always here when you need us, Ryan." Samara assures him with a disarming smile.

Honestly, she's eerily good at feigning affability. She has an alarming superpower of being able to allay any suspicions one may have of her. It makes her an extremely crucial member of our group.

"It's great to hear that. Now I can add your names right next to the others who agreed to help, Jesse and Noah. See you Monday." Ryan waves goodbye, slithers his way out my window, and lands with a resounding thud before I even have time to digest his last few words.

I really hope he fell straight on his ass. That's what he deserves for storming out before I could further question him about Jesse. Now that I think about it, he must have something to hide and knew interrogation was coming. I wouldn't let him off the hook that easily.

Before I could turn to my friends and ask them about his "Jesse and Noah" comment, my mom cracks my door open and pokes her head in.

"Was Ryan just in here, girls?" Mom questions and I nod slowly.

"Yeah. How did you know?" We made sure to remain as silent as possible and she wasn't even in her room while we were chatting; she was downstairs in the kitchen. The semi-deep voice could have belonged to anyone.

"I'm a mother," She says, as if that explains it all. "I have a great ability to memorize voices."

    I roll my eyes. More like a creepy ability. I think to myself. However, Ashley, Kelsey, and Samara, like they do whenever my mom cracks a joke, start chuckling. It reminds me of Poppy since she always did the same. Knowing how much she adored it, I bet my mom reminisces about that and other moments too.

Poppy spent countless hours walking these halls and eating Mom's delicious baked goods that I'm sure she considered this place her second home. And I bet Mom considered her as practically her second daughter, the second child she never ended up having.

    For a fleeting moment, I can observe a hint of melancholy in Mom's usual gleaming eyes, but it fades away almost as quick as it came. She blinks the sorrowful expression away and replaces it with as cheerful of a one as she seems to be able to muster.

    "Anyway, I made some chocolate chip cookies for you guys. Fresh out of the oven and hopefully delicious." She exclaims, extending her arm out to reveal a mouth-watering platter of cookies.

One thing about my mom is that she is an absolutely astonishing baker, so I know these are going to be nothing but magnificent. It's beyond me why my mom never decided to become a famous chef.

    "Yes, that's just what I needed. Don't mind if I do." I raise my hand to grab one, but Mom flicks it away.

    "Not so fast. First, tell me what Ryan was doing here and then you'll get a cookie." She interrogates me.

    "So that's why you brought cookies? To bribe us for answers?" I ask to stall before having to expose our plan to her.

    "That depends. Is it working?" I heave a long sigh, preparing myself for the inevitable.

    "The thing is, I- um," I stammer, trying to find words. "I might have made a plan to kill Ryan again." I finally blurt out.

    "What?! Why would you do that? Do you not remember how your first attempt at that went?" Mom cries.

    "Of course I remember. But this time is different. I planned a lot better, just look." I haphazardly grab one of the print-outs of my plan and hand it to her. I watch her eyes scan each word on the page, the seconds passing by with unbearable slowness.

Finally, after what feels like an hour, she looks up at me with an unreadable expression on her face. I wait expectantly for her answer.

"You are so my daughter." She says, a smirk on her lips. I don't know what I was expecting, but it was definitely not that.  Once she observes my perplexed expression, she clarifies.

"I would have done this same thing, print papers to plan a murder. And, you know what, Ryan deserves this." My jaw drops at the sound of her words. My mom is just continuing to surprise me today.

For the next hour, Ashley, Kelsey, Samara, and I enjoy the delectable taste of Mom's cookies, which intermingles with our uncontrollable laughter to create an ideal day. At least as ideal as a day could be when you plan to murder somebody soon after.

I spend the entire day on Sunday contemplating the master plan and overthinking every single component of it.

By the time Monday at school rolls around, I am standing beside Ashley and Kelsey at Ashley's locker, transferring my worries onto them. Samara has a dance team meeting right now, so she's lucky enough to be exempted from my panicked rant.

"Everything will be fine, Ivy. Don't stress." Ashley assures me.

"How do you know that, though? What if my plan has a ton of flaws to it and I'm sabotaging you guys without even knowing it?" I ramble on. Kelsey, who was even skeptical of my plan a day ago, just chuckles.

"Even I'm not worried anymore. I read the last part of the plan yesterday, tricking people into thinking his death is a suicide. It's genius." She blurts at a volume definitely too noisy for comfort. That's Kelsey for you.

"Kels, how many times do we have to remind you to be quiet when talking about this?" Ashley scolds her.

"It's okay. No one heard. Their only staring at me because of the party." I tell her. Somehow, the news of what happened between Jesse and I on the balcony has spread to practically the entire school.

I would care, but I know for a fact that Ryan is receiving even more glares after his infamous mention in the Denver News. He deserves every single nasty look sent his way.

"Just ignore them." Ashley rolls her eyes as I scan the congested halls and plethora of eyes shooting daggers at me.

Many of them snicker in my direction as well, almost in a secretive manner as if I'm invisible and won't notice. I can't comprehend what the big deal is that I kissed a guy at a party. I may not be the most socially savvy person, but I'm not dense enough to be unaware of how common it is for people to make out at parties.

They must know the truth behind Jesse and find it hilarious that I don't realize he's not who he says he is.

"Speaking of the party with Jesse, I just realized he's in my next class." I groan, desperately wanting to be anywhere other than here. In some alternate universe where I don't have to see Jesse or Ryan and Poppy is still alive.

But, unfortunately, the realms full of happiness that exist in my mind can never and will never be reality. And I'll just have to live with that.

"What are you going to say to him?" Kelsey queries, intrigued.

"Absolutely nothing." I reply in a stern manner. I don't owe him anything. A braver version of myself, one similar to Samara, would try to interrogate him, but that's obviously not going to happen.

"Let's see how that goes." Ashley jokes, skeptical.

"It will go great." I say confidently, waving goodbye to them and striding down the hall in the direction of my next class.

I take a deep breath, wrap my fingers around the frigid metal door knob, and take my seat next to Jesse as if it were any other day. Except it's not any other day and I could feel everyone in the room's eyes on mine.

I'm able to make it mid-way through the period before Jesse turns to start a conversation with me.

"You're dancing at the party was a big hit." He teases and suddenly, I remember the real reason why I've been getting weird stares all day.

I was dancing on Friday and Brandon drew even more attention to me with his stupid comment. Ugh.

"Whatever. How about you go talk to Ryan and continue plotting my downfall?" I retort sharply.

As soon as the words exit my mouth, I regret uttering them aloud. Jesse stares at me as if I just grew two heads and I know for a fact that my huge mouth has tarnished our relationship.

"What do you mean "plotting your downfall?" I'm not doing anything with him. I barely even know him well." He argues, hostiley.

"Sure you don't." I shoot back, sarcasm dripping off my lips like a venemous poison. My attempts to bite my tounge failed and now words are spewing out of my mouth uncontrollably.

Luckily, after my bitter comment, Jesse decides to quit engaging with me, rolling his eyes and focusing on our assignment for the last few minutes of class.

Maybe I took it slightly too far. Okay, I definitely took it too far, but whatever. I have much more important things to worry about.

Once our teacher dismisses us, I jolt out of my seat and storm out the door and down the hallway to where my locker is located. I twist my lock in one speedy motion and yank it open. I exchange my notebooks and laptop for my overly stuffed lunchbox as usual, but a slip of paper flutters along with it. I lean down to pick it up off the ground, petrified of what I will discover.

"What?" I breathe aloud.

It is a tiny note card with a gorgeous photo of Poppy attached to the front. In it, she is flaunting her grand, award winning smile to the camera, posing in front of a brick wall with a mural of ocean waves. I immediately recognize it.

Poppy and I were attending an art festival at Lakewood that she begged me to come along to and I was the one taking the picture. How could someone have gotten ahold of this? I think to myself.

I flip the note card over, revealing a two word message that makes my heart rate speed up even more than the photo. You're next. It reads in bold, scrawly handwriting.

Before I have any time to process what I'm viewing, Noah passes by me and nods in my direction. He has an arm swung around Sarah, who is looking up at him with a fond expression.

"The party was fun with you, dead best friend girl." Noah remarks with a mocking wink and Sarah, his irritating little posse, smirks beside him.

The note card along with his comment just made things a lot more confusing.