Chapter 3

DeWitt Med doesn't havea locker room per se. What we've got is a long hallway of lockers, not segregated in any way by gender. Meaning that I've got two choices:

Be a prude and run to the ladies' room to change into scrubs for lab

Change my clothes in front of boys

I stand in front of my locker, clutching my scrubs for far too long, trying to make a decision. The ladies' room is all the way at the other end of the floor, so I'll save some serious time if I change my clothes right here. And it's not very crowded, at least not yet. However, I'm still retaining a modicum of modesty, and I'm not sure if I can make myself do it. My body isn't quite as bikini-ready as I'd like it to be.

In any case, I need to decide soon. Because I look like an idiot just standing here.

I'm just about ready to start pulling my shirt over my head when a door swings open and about a dozen students filter into the hallway, most of them male.

No, all of them male.

And loud.

I quickly pull my shirt back down.

One of the students yanks open the locker three doors away from mine and gives me a charming smile. And oh my God, this guy is cute. I mean, seriously cute. If someone made a movie about our med school class, he'd be playing himself. His face is classically handsome, but most of all, I can't stop staring at his hazel eyes, and I have to admit, at this moment, Landon is the farthest thing from my mind.

Especially when Dreamy McCutie pulls off his shirt.

Wow, look at that chest. Sheesh.

"What's wrong?" he asks me as he fishes through his locker for his scrub top. "You forget something?"

Oh God, I need to stop staring at this guy.

"No," I mumble, still clutching my own scrubs to my chest. "I just… need to go change."

Dreamy McCutie yanks a crisp green scrub top from his locker and winks at me. "So what are you waiting for?"

I swallow, feeling like a silly little girl at a boy-band concert. I should not be swooning over random guys in my class. I have a boyfriend who I love, who I want to marry. And even if I didn't, I still shouldn't be swooning.

And I definitely shouldn't be changing my clothes in front of this guy.

"Excuse me," I say, and I race off in the direction of the ladies' room.

I arrive at the ladies' room about a minute later. It's a comforting sight, packed to the brim with other female students who are also too chicken to change clothes in the hallway. We prudes definitely make up the majority.

The stalls have already all been claimed, but I feel comfortable enough in the female company to get undressed by the sinks. I stand next to the sink at the far end and grab onto it to keep my balance while I pull my feet out of my pants legs. But as my fingers grip the sink, they hit a defect in the otherwise smooth white porcelain. It's a significant crack, which has not yet been repaired.

Last year, the girl who OD'd did it in the bathroom by the anatomy labs. You can see the crack in the sink where her head smacked against it before she hit the floor.

Rachel's words echo in my skull as I yank my hand away from the sink. My head is spinning as I stare at that crack in the flawless white. This is it. This is where it happened.

The girl responsible for this crevice was standing right where I was a year ago. She was changing into her scrubs in anticipation of her very first lab. Like me, she was probably a mix of excited and nervous.

She had no idea that only a short while later, this would be where she would die.