After Christmas, Cole started bugging me about studying together for midterms.

"We can do it at your house if you want to," he says over the phone.

"No," I firmly say, playing with my bangs which already got longer. I don't think they're even considered bangs anymore

"But, it's also for the project," he continues but I just keep silent. "Please?" he adds.

"Fine," I finally say, sighing.

"Really?" he says.

"Yes," I groan, rubbing my forehead.

"See you tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow!?"

I haven't even cleaned my room for a month now, jeez!

"Are you not available?" he asks, concerned.

"Uhm—"

I try to think of an excuse but then I told myself that my room needs to be cleaned. I guess I'll use that excuse to clean my room.

I sigh before answering.

"Okay, tomorrow," I say and I can almost hear him smile through the phone.

"Tomorrow it is then," he says before saying goodbye.

I got out of bed and started to clean my room. I started by making my bed and that's when I realized it.

Why am I so bothered on cleaning my room when I don't even want him to get inside here?

"You're so brilliant, Amelia!" I tell myself, practically prancing around my room. "Cleaning my room is a no-no."

I jumped back on my half-made bed and started to mess it around again when mom suddenly opened the door. I sat up abruptly as she stares at my whole room with horror.

"Hey, mom," I casually say, hoping that she won't say anything about the mess.

"When was the last time you cleaned this room?" she asks right away and I just grin at her sheepishly.

"I forgot," I lie.

"Clean," she says and I was about to object when she adds a firm, "Now."

I got out of bed once again and started making my bed. I can feel mom's eyes burning against my back so I turned to furrow my eyebrows at her.

"Mom!" I groan as she giggles.

"Just make sure that this room is cleaned by noon," she says, leaving and closing the door shut.

I look at Chelsea's bare bed. There's no way I'd invite Cole here. He would definitely ask about that bed and of course about Chelsea as well.

I suddenly remembered what his mom again.

Aren't you Chelsea's sister?

How does she know Chelsea? Why does she know about her? Does she also know about her death? Does Cole know?

"I think they do."

Chelsea.

She was sitting on her bare bed.

"Where're my sheets?" she asks, the bright light around her was blinding as usual.

"I think it's time that you became a minimalist," I say and if Chelsea were truly here, she'd flick my forehead.

Suddenly I felt her cold and wispy fingers flicked my forehead.

"Ouch!" I shouted, rubbing my forehead.

"I'm not extra," she says.

"Yeah, right," I scoff as she flicks my forehead once again.

"Sorry not sorry," she huffs and I soon found myself laughing. "What are you laughing about?" she says.

"N-nothing," I say before sitting down across her.

"What?" she says and I can feel her cross her arms.

"Honestly, though, what are you doing here?" I say, my laughter subsiding.

"What does that even mean?" she says, her tone still sharp.

"Y-you're s-supposed t-to—"

I stop myself before I could say it when suddenly she stands up to approach me. She cups my face with her cold hands.

"To be dead?" she finishes as I swallow nervously.

"Y-yes," I stammer.

"Well, for some reason I'm still alive in you," she replies, removing her hands away from my face.

"What do you mean?" I say, my curiosity spiking up.

"I'm pretty sure you have a mental problem."

Paula invited me to have ice cream with her that afternoon.

"Are you serious? It's freezing cold out there," I say but despite that, I was already putting my coat on.

"I can hear you dressing up, Amelia, now get your ass out of here," she says.

She was already parked in front of our house so I don't think I can tell her no at this point. I got out and went inside her car, she was smoking a cigarette. She noticed how I was staring at her.

"Do you want me to throw this shit out?' she asks and it took me a few seconds to register what she just said.

"No! I-it's fine," I say, trying to compose myself.

"Just to give you a head's up, I do drugs, okay?" she says. "So, if you want to end our friendship, end it right here, right now."

She rolls the window open and throws her cigarette away before placing her hands on the steering wheel.

"I won't," I say.

"Are you sure?" she says, looking at me with her dark brown eyes.

"A hundred percent."

"Great."

I spoon some of my vanilla soft serve in my mouth. It was so cold I experienced a brain freeze at the first bite.

"Not a fan of cold food?" Paula asks, furiously licking her ice cream scoops.

She ordered six flavors: cookies and cream, cookie dough, mint chocolate chip, peanut butter and jelly, butter pecan, and birthday cake. Right now, she's holding two ice cream cones with three ice cream scoops.

"Not much," I admit, letting the ice cream melt in my mouth before swallowing it.

"Why didn't you say so?" she asks, eating all the three scoops from the first cone.

"It's not like I don't like them, I just can't handle the coldness," I say before grabbing another bite.

She starts to eat the other three flavors before turning to say something again but then she stops.

"How about you? Do you actually have a sweet tooth or something?" I ask as I watch her eat the ice cream under a minute.

"Hmm, I'd be lying if I said no," she replies.

"I see," I softly say, nodding.

"I'm not entirely sure but I think it's because of my addiction to cocaine," she says and that's when I shoot her a look.

"What?" I say.

"What?" she says back.

"N-nothing."

"I swear if you're uncomfortable with me using drugs and smoking, you better end this shit between us," she says.

"I-I'm not," I lie, squeezing the plastic spoon with my fingers nervously.

"If you say so," she says before eating both of the cones together. "Because I think you are."