SUE’S POV

I wasn’t supposed to be here.

I don’t even know how long I’ve been sitting here—on this cold, dusty locker room floor, knees pulled to my chest, Michelle’s diary open on my lap like some cursed book I was never meant to touch.

That was the first thought that crossed my mind as I stared at the soft pink journal half-hidden under Michelle’s pillow.

Pink. With little gold flowers.

So harmless. So girly.

So fake—exactly like the owner.

I didn’t mean to look for it.

I just… saw the corner sticking out when Michelle rushed to the bathroom.

Curiosity felt like a hand around my wrist, tugging. And...