Chapter 3

Coralie's POV

The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed and went to the kitchen for water. I bumped into Mom, who was brewing coffee.

She turned around, and the mug in her hand dropped to the floor, shattering into pieces.

"Mom? What is it?"

She stared at me, her lips trembling. It took her a long time to choke out, "Coralie... your face..."

I rushed to the old, cracked mirror on the living room wall.

Staring back at me was a girl I had never seen before. Her skin was luminous, perfectly smooth. Not a single pit, not a single pimple, not even a visible pore. The scars that had haunted me for five years were entirely gone, vanished overnight.

I touched my cheek. It felt as smooth as porcelain.

"What... what did you do last night?" Mom's voice was shaking.

"I didn't do anything," I said, heart pounding wildly against my ribs. "I just... slept."

I sprinted to my room, dug it out of yesterday's jeans, and clutched the ice-cold silver tightly in my palm.

I didn't care what it was. I didn't care. I was beautiful now.

When I walked into school that day, the entire hallway went dead silent. The boys couldn't take their eyes off me; the girls violently whispered to one another. I walked through the crowd, and for the first time in my life, I didn't look down. I didn't hide my face behind my hair.

"Coralie?!" Tansy Guidry shoved through the crowd, chewing on her homemade beef jerky, eyes wide. "My god, your skin! What did you use? New skincare regimen? Did you secretly see a doctor? Tell me!"

"Just sleeping early," I winked at her.

Why should I tell them? This was my secret. Mine alone.

Before first period even started, a boy whose name I barely knew awkwardly blocked my desk, handing me a soda, his face crimson. "Um... Coralie, this is for you..."

Two days ago, I couldn't even dream of this.

But the real thrill came when I turned a corner and ran into Seraphine. She was laughing with a group of friends. Then she looked up and saw me.

Her smile froze.

She stared fixedly at my face. The color drained from her cheeks until she was as pale as paper. The textbooks in her arms crashed to the floor, and she didn't even try to pick them up.

It wasn't jealousy. I'd realize later that the look in her eyes at that exact moment was absolute terror.

But then, I only felt a rush of euphoric victory. For seventeen years, I had finally wiped that arrogant, condescending smile right off Seraphine Blanchard's face.

After school, I locked myself in my room and examined the compact over and over. How could such a battered old thing hold this kind of power?

I opened the lid to get a closer look at the powder—

And then I noticed the inside of the lid.

It wasn't scratched from wear and tear.

They were names. Carved deeply into the metal with something sharp, crowded together, filling the entire surface. I read them one by one. Most were blurred from age, but the very last one at the bottom was etched so deeply and freshly, as if carved with desperate force:

Seraphine Blanchard.

My breath caught in my throat.

Why was Seraphine's name in here?

Beneath her name, there was a blank space. The powder sat quietly in its pan, waiting.

I snapped my head up to look at the vanity mirror.

My perfect reflection—in the fraction of a second when I blinked—

Vanished.

For half a second, the face staring back at me was raw, glistening, dark red. It had absolutely no skin. Two exposed eyeballs glared at me, dead and fixated.

I screamed and knocked my chair backward.

When I focused my eyes again, the mirror showed my flawless, pale face.

I collapsed onto the floor, trembling violently. The silver compact dropped from my hand, landing face up.

In the blank space beneath Seraphine's name, a new letter was slowly carving itself into the metal, stroke by invisible stroke.

It started with a C.