"Then you'll have boys lining up for miles." Miranda snickered. "Hey, you know how they feel about boobs. The more, the merrier."

"You could always change your name to Barbie," Della said, grinning. "My mom wouldn't even let us play with Barbie because she said it was an unhealthy body image. I think it was because she knew that with us being part Asian, we would probably suffer from the no butt, no boobs syndrome.

And she didn't want us to get our body image from a stacked piece of plastic."

"You've got a butt," Miranda said.

"Yeah, thank God. I at least got that from my mom. She's not short on bootie." She looked down at her chest. "Unfortunately, I took my dad's boobs."

Kylie tried to appreciate their lighthearted reactions to her situation, but it didn't dampen her concern. Okay, she'd admit that she'd occasionally wished she had a wee bit more up top. Especially when she compared herself to Sara, her best friend back home who no longer called, whose boobs were an eye magnet for guys. And sure, another few inches of height meant Kylie would look thinner.

None of that made her feel better. The idea that all this stemmed from some unknown, inhuman DNA she had coursing through her body made her nervous. Nervous because she didn't know how far it would go, or what would come next.

Would she end up having to have her size F bras custom-made like Sara's great-aunt did? Dear God, the woman nearly smothered Kylie when she hugged her at Sara's family's picnic.

Kylie still had her boobs in her hand when the chill ran down her back and up her arms, and her lips felt frosted from breathing in the icy air. Company had arrived.

Standing right in front of her was the ghost. Only she looked even worse than before. She was emaciated, too thin. Even her cheekbones protruded from the sides of her face, giving her the appearance of a skeleton.

"You have to do something. Soon. You have to do something. They killed me. Killed me and they will kill her, too." Then the ghost folded over and barfed all over Kylie's too-tight tennis shoes and Della's pretty white running shoes.

"Gross." Kylie jumped back and slammed into Miranda. "Gross what?" Della said, and looked down, and then Miranda moved in to see what was happening.

Kylie couldn't answer. She knew they wouldn't see the barf, she knew it wasn't really there, that as soon as the ghost left so would the vision, but Kylie was a bit of a sympathy puker, and real or not, right now it looked pretty damn real. Her gag reflex started to jump up and down in her throat. She looked away from her shoes.

"Do something," the ghost repeated.

"Oh, shit," blurted out Della. "They're here, aren't they?" Della started turning in circles, talking to things that weren't there. "I swear, I swear I'm sorry for everything I've ever done."

"Me, too," Miranda said, her eyes shifting from left to right. Kylie stared at the ghost and, not wanting to freak out Della or Miranda any more than they were, she spoke to the spirit in her mind. I'm trying to do something. But you have to tell me who it is. I need more information.

"Killing me," said the ghost. Then she and her puke disappeared into the thin, icy air.

Kylie, realizing she still held her magically growing boobs in her hands, dropped her arms to her side. While she gave her chest one last look, her new boob size no longer seemed important. She had to get to the falls and see if the death angels could help her.

Glancing at Della and Miranda, Kylie said, "Let's go."

"I didn't catch on fire," Della said, sounding surprised. She elbowed Kylie. "Does that mean I didn't do anything that bad those days right after I turned?"

"Maybe." Kylie didn't have the heart to tell her that it hadn't been the death angels, so she just started walking. In a few seconds, she heard the almost hypnotic sound of the cascading water. She wasn't sure if it was real or from some mystical calling, but she kept walking.

They traveled another five minutes in silence. Then Miranda tucked a strand of her straight multicolored hair behind her ear and looked at Kylie. "Do you really think someone you love is going to die?"

"The ghost seems to think so," Kylie said, trying not to sound frustrated.

"And she won't tell you who?"

"According to Holiday, some ghosts have a hard time communicating."

"That sucks."

"Yeah." The overwhelming responsibility to save someone filled Kylie's chest with a heavy ache. If someone died because she couldn't figure this out, she wasn't sure she could forgive herself.

"Do you really think that the death angels might help you?"

Kylie considered Miranda's question. "I don't know for sure, but yeah, for some reason I believe they will."

"You really aren't afraid of them?" Della asked.

"Sure I am," Kylie said, but when she saw the fear appear in Della's eyes, she qualified it. "But I don't think they're evil."

Miranda piped up. "Do you think maybe you could ask them to ... to make Perry forgive me?"

"Oh, please," Della said. "Perry just needs to pull his head out of his ass. You don't need forgiving."

"Not true," Miranda said. "I'd have been mad if he kissed someone else."

"Mad, yes. But to totally drop you because of it is ridiculous. I mean, it's not like you slept with Kevin or like you even gave the guy a blow job. He kissed you ... big friggin' deal."