Chapter 3

On the very first day, Diana ran into a wall.

In our last life, she'd used her role as Patsy's caretaker to work us like servants.

Making up their beds was step one.

We'd all been raised soft, and none of us had even figured out how to arrange our own bunks yet. Naturally, being ordered to go work for Diana didn't sit well with us.

Cynthia turned her down flat.

"No time."

I felt a twinge of guilt, but I still said, "After I finish making my own bed."

Only Skylar went over to help.

Diana latched onto her after that, sending her to sweep the floor, wipe the desks, take out the trash, hang up clothes.

By bedtime, Skylar had worn herself out all day and still hadn't made her own bed.

She went to ask Diana and her mother, who were busy bingeing a show, for a hand. Diana refused without even looking up.

Skylar asked quietly, "How can you be like this?"

Diana raised an eyebrow, then turned to the camera with her eyes brimming with tears and threw Skylar up on the livestream.

"It's okay, I'll help you, don't be upset."

And so the most honest, dutiful one of us, Skylar, got twisted into a bully out of pure malice, and someone filed a report that stripped her of her scholarship eligibility.

This time, Diana asked the same helpless question:

"I have to take care of my mom. Can someone help me make the bed?"

No one answered.

Diana's voice caught right on cue.

"Sorry, that was out of line."

But this time the mood in the livestream didn't tilt her way the way she'd counted on.

"Diana, everyone's busy."

"Is the streamer a giant baby? Quit playing the victim. You're not even the worst off in that room!"

Diana went pale and started making her own bed in silence.

And of course Patsy had to sit at the edge of the bunk cracking sunflower seeds, dropping shells all over the floor.

The frustration boiled up in Diana, and she muttered under her breath:

"Stop eating those."

Before Patsy could even react, I raised my voice.

"Diana, is that any way to talk to your mother?"

I stepped closer, my face full of indignation.

"Sure, she's a little slow, but you can't treat her like that!"

Patsy exploded. "Who are you calling slow?"

Diana quickly threw herself in front of her, waving her hands.

"I didn't."

My grandmother gave a soft cough.

"June would never talk to me like that."

I leaned into her arms.

"Of course not."

Diana's face darkened, and she scrambled to shut off the stream.

But the tide in the livestream had already turned, and the comments piled on, blaming Diana for having no patience with her mother.

Some even wondered how Patsy had suddenly started understanding what people said.

I curled my lips.

In our last life, Diana always seized on little things and blew them up, painting us as the ones who disrespected her and her mother.

She had the whole internet cursing us behind our backs!

And now...

My eyes went dark.

This was only the beginning of payback.

Four beds in the room, eight people lying in them.

It was deep into the night, and not one of us was asleep.

Seeing the room go quiet, Patsy slipped down from her bunk and crept through the dark to feel around at the head of our three beds.

"Mm..."

I rolled over as if in my sleep, and she nearly dropped the wallet in her hands.

She yanked out the bills, put the wallet back where it was, then scurried back up into bed.

In the dark, her lips curled with greed.

And every bit of it was captured, clear as day, by the infrared pinhole camera tucked out of sight.

Early the next morning, a warbling stretch of opera filled the room.

Grandma Manning had started warming up her voice at the crack of dawn.

The two grandmothers listened, utterly absorbed.

"What is that racket, this early? Give it a rest!"

Patsy yanked back her blanket and yelled, two huge dark circles under her eyes.

Stealing the money the night before, she'd forced herself to stay up past midnight.

She hadn't expected to be woken after only two hours of sleep.

Grandma Manning shot Patsy a glance.

"Patsy, you look just like anyone else to me."

Then she went right on singing.

Diana threw Patsy a look and patted her shoulder to calm her down.

Patsy gritted her teeth.

Cynthia and I exchanged a glance, both catching the laughter in each other's eyes.

In our last life, this was exactly what Patsy did, blasting short videos and soap operas at full volume, clattering and banging all day so we never got any peace. Now that it was her turn, she couldn't take it.

Patsy figured Grandma Manning's opera fever would last a day at most.

But for five days straight, Grandma Manning got up at four in the morning to sing.

Patsy was already sneaking around at night on top of getting no real sleep, and her hair had gone as wild as a bird's nest, the shadows under her eyes refusing to fade.

Diana wasn't having an easy time either. She'd tried slipping sob-story posts online, but the comments came back unanimous, telling her to have some understanding for the old woman.

Finally, Patsy hit her limit.

That morning, Grandma Manning opened her voice like always.

Patsy's face went sallow. All at once she leapt off the bed and charged at Grandma Manning with a metal basin raised.

Diana lay there with her eyes cracked, pretending to sleep.

Cynthia and I felt our chests tighten.

Patsy was, on paper, a sick woman. If she hurt someone, holding her accountable would be next to impossible.

Just as Cynthia was about to take the blow for Grandma Manning, Grandma Reeves made her move.

She planted her stance solid, gave a light flick of her wrist that struck Patsy's hand, and the metal basin clattered to the floor.

Patsy immediately clutched her wrist and let out a wail.

"You bag of bones, ruining everything for me. I'll beat you to death."

Gritting her teeth, Patsy swung a fist at Grandma Reeves again.

Grandma Reeves twisted at the waist, hooked out one long arm, and Patsy went crashing to the ground.

Diana couldn't keep pretending anymore. She got up to help Patsy to her feet.

Of course we weren't about to give her the chance.

The three of us rushed forward, pretending to break up the fight, our fists landing all together on Patsy and Diana.

These past days, we'd huddled together and gone over our last lives, and every one of us had ended up in tears.

Especially once we learned that after the online harassment drove us to our deaths, all three of our families slowly fell apart, the fury in us burned hotter still.

And now all that hatred turned into solid fists, coming down on Diana and her mother.