“I keep walking. Freaking idiot. What did she think I was going to do, pretend like she exists? And then it hits me in the pit of my stomach. What if. Is she? No, she can’t be. She can’t be moving into the house down the street from me. Into the creepy house. The haunted house. But where else would a girl live who could shatter bottles with her gaze. Maybe she’s a doppelganger. “Roxie,”