Camrice blinks. “How did you know?”

“Uhh…”

I don’t know how to explain to her that I’m trying to solve the case. She’ll think I’m stupid and weird and that I probably should give up. I am in Heaven and the whole point of going to Heaven is to just relax and forget about shit. But even if I’m dead, I’m still so anxious all the time about everything. Like if I’m so curious about who killed who and who’s with who. Why do I care? I just do. It’s like asking, “Why do you like that show?” You just do. Doesn’t have to be related to you or your life, just a good show that’s addicting and nice to watch after a long week.

“Just r-rumors,” I stammer. “Y’know.”

Camrice looks around. “C’mon,” she says, then speed-walks out of the class. 

I follow her, making turns right and left until it doesn’t even look like we’re at the Academy at all. We stop in a tight hallway with rooms lined up on each wall. The walls are covered in scratches and the floor’s basically just a fluffy mat.

“Where–”

“This way.” 

The next thing I know, I’m being shoved into a room with lavender–lavender–yeah, just lavender everywhere. The walls, the floor, the desk, the bed.

“Wait, you don’t have to share a room? WAIT–this is a dorm hallway? Wait, wait–what?” I try to picture the Academy from the outside, where the dorms are, the windows. Everything feels like a maze, a puzzle. Is it supposed to be a metaphor of life?

“Overthink much?”

I fidget with my sweater sleeve. “I just don’t… Everything’s a mess.”

She scoffs. “You can say that again.” 

It’s silent for a couple of minutes. The lavender rug beneath me starts to make me itch, and the picture of Emery on the wall doesn’t help.

“Wait, why is there a picture–”

“OK,” Camrice shouts. “Let’s get down to business.”

I wrinkle my forehead.

Camrice flops onto her bed. “The witness thing.”

“Oh, right.”

How could I forget?

“So let me start off by saying, Emery’s a liar.”

“Wait, how–”

“I mean, you share a dorm, right? So you probably asked her first–”

How does she know we share a dorm? Is she spying on us–

“–and I don’t know, maybe she used that weird charming spell or whatever to convince you, but you’re still caught up on the case. So maybe she didn’t. Or maybe it wasn’t a big change–”

I almost pull a chunk of the rug out.“Hold up–spell?”

Camrice closes her eyes.  “Right. You’re a newb. Ok, so–” She pauses. “There’s this, uh, place where you can learn how to do dark spells. All sorts of stuff. They’re supposed to be, y’know, restricted for more experienced angels, but there are a lot of…teens that…come here.”

My mind starts swirling like a malfunctioning roller coaster. 

I’ve been for over a week already, how did I not notice that the Academy was basically a high school? How did I–how could I have missed this? 

Oh god.

I smooth back my hair with both of my hands, knocking my halo off. I don’t bother to pick it up.

The world is so messed up.

“I mean, a lot of old people die, too,” Camrice adds. “Like a lot. But…” She clenches her fists and unclenches them. Laughing, she says, “It’s weird talking about death when I’m, y’know…dead.” 

I almost laugh. Camrice is a lot like Gray in some ways. Her sense of humor, her underratedness. She’s different, too. Gray isn’t part cat, obviously, and Camrice isn’t…in jail. Gray’s a bit more of a chatterbox, I guess you could say. Camrice is pretty chill…most of the time.

My mind wanders back to the couple class; Camrice really got worked up. Over Emery. I still can’t figure out why. I’m guessing it’s why she still has a picture of Emery on her wall. The other thing, she said. Even Lev seemed confused. 

“What’s the other thing–” I start when the door swings open. Emery stands there, her hands on her hips. Some weird angel with a black suit and bright red high heels stands next to her. The gold pin above their left breast reads, “Mrs. L.”

Yeah, L for loser.

“Chiro and Camrice,” she says curtly. “In my office.” 

What did I do? Why is Emery here?

Camrice stands up, her nostrils flaring. She shoots a glance at Emery so fierce even I flinch. Emery doesn’t budge though, kinda seems like she’s used to it–which is probably related to the other thing I’m itching to know about. If you add the murder mystery to that, it almost seems like dying was the right choice. 

I do miss Leora, though. She’s the only thing I miss about Earth. And my phone. My phone with a cat lockscreen–that kinda looks like Camrice, but less…ragey. 

“Now,” Mrs. L sternly says. 

The last thing I see when I walk out is Emery blowing Camrice a kiss.