Every school has its secrets—but at the exclusive Ellison College, the past might prove deadly—in this twisty puzzlebox mystery. “The dark academia whodunit you need to read next. Trust me.” —Maureen Johnson, #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Truly Devious series Every school has its secrets. Ellison College freshman Raina has no idea that her new school is hiding such a grisly past. But thirty years ago, on Mischief Night the week after Halloween, three students walked into the woods surrounding campus, and only one came out. Their killer was never caught, and the students became known as the Mischief Girls. No one knows what happened. Or do they? Three decades later, Anika, a classmate of Raina’s, has gone missing. Turns out Anika was looking into the Mischief Girls’ murders before she vanished. And Raina may have been the last person to see her. Old lies die the hardest. With the help of Anika’s stepbrother, Rohan, Raina begins to dig into the truth. But the deeper she goes, the more she starts to wonder whether what happened to Anika really began the night she disappeared…or if it goes back further. The past is catching up to Ellison College. And maybe, so is a killer… “ Smart, thrilling, and surprising . . . will have you immediately begging for the author’s next book.” —Kara Thomas, author of The Cheerleaders “An up-all-night nail-biter !” —Lauren Muñoz, author of Suddenly a Murder " A worthwhile read for mystery fans , especially those who appreciate a side dose of romance or searching for identity." — School Library Journal "The pacy, twisty plot, replete with red herrings, makes for compulsive reading.... Twisty and engrossing ." — Kirkus Reviews Aashna Avachat is a writer, reader, and lawyer from California. She studied English and Philosophy at the University of California, Berkeley and law at Harvard Law School. She is also the author of Love Craves Cardamom . When she’s not working, she’s probably reading on a sunny patch of grass, going on long walks to grocery stores, or being cozy with one of her many foster cats. Visit her online at aashnaavachat.com. Chapter 1 The phone isn't ringing. It's a quiet night, unusually so for the evening before Halloweekend. It's nearly midnight, and the weather has gotten much colder this week, dropping ten, even twenty, degrees. Theo sits to my right in the little cubicle space we call our headquarters, playing with a rubber-band ball. He yawns, and so do I. Our supervisor, Foster-who was a senior at Ellison two years ago and is barely old enough to be properly managing us-spins around in his chair, scrolling on his phone. "If we don't get any calls tonight, can we go home early?" Theo asks, and Foster stops spinning. "Nice try. If I'm here, you're stuck with me." Theo grins. "I'm sure you can handle it till overnight shift gets here." "I am overnight shift," Foster says. "They got rid of the temps because of budget cuts." "What?" "Yup. It's just me after one in the morning. If you've got a problem with that, ask your dad to make some calls." Theo frowns. "Damn." He tugs at a loose rubber band on the colorful ball in his hands, then turns to me. "At least you get to go home soon." I check the clock. "Twenty minutes." "Jealous." Theo clutches his chest, all drama. "Then quit. You don't even need a work-study job!" Foster pouts at us. "Don't quit-I can't take being alone the whole night." "Foster," I say, "for a twenty-four-year-old, you are such a baby." He grins at me. "You love it." "You can't hit on your employees, Foster!" says Theo. I roll my eyes. Foster Lawson is a flirt; everyone knows that. It's just how he talks. The tone, the smirking. Plus, he's handsome: tall, with hazel eyes and spiky black hair. Tanned skin from his outdoor climbing hobby. A sharp jawline and impeccable style, from his thrifted clothes to the silver cross hanging from a chain around his neck. With his looks, of course everything he says sounds like he's flirting. He's not even doing it on purpose. It's why he got this job, we think, Theo and I. His charisma puts people at ease, so much so that he feels more like a friend than a supervisor most days. The thing is, Foster didn't graduate from Ellison at the end of his senior year. He didn't have the grades, mostly because he simply didn't show up for his exams. He was a bit of a legend for a while. He dealt a lot of drugs; he got into shenanigans; he was the life of the party. He talked his way out of most everything. The dean took sympathy on him and gave Foster a choice: Repeat senior year or start working for the college. Or else, finally get reported to the cops. Ellison had already given Foster a lot of leeway, and that was his last chance. At least, that's how the story goes. I'm glad he's here. Apparently, the old supervisor was a real stickler. Employees weren't allowed to do homework on shift, even if there were no incoming calls. I'm grateful Foster's fine with