I DON'T ACTIVELY want to die. Not all the time.

If it weren't for my father, then sure I'd consider it. He may not be my favorite person in the world, and I am definitely not his, but I don't relish the thought of him standing at my gravesite, hunched over my coffin, racked with sobs. I only think about dying sometimes-like now.

We're almost at Hades Point. In approximately two minutes and thirty seconds, the black Lorax I'm riding in will carry me past the infamous cliff's edge, where, historically twelve students at my school have plummeted to their deaths. I'm not afraid of the point, but maybe I should be. It's deep-Grand Canyon deep. A gaping mouth in the ground that swallows kids who can't handle Darkwood Academy. That's the boarding school I go to in Vermont, where I'm starting my junior year. It's where I spent my first year and sophomore year, too, before the thing that happened. But more on that...never.

"Approaching Hades Point!" trills a merry voice, invading my thoughts. You'd think a driverless vehicle would guarantee a person some peace and quiet, but no. When the Lorax picked me up at the Burlington airport two hours ago, the operating system forced me to select a name for its virtual driver. I'd rejected the suggested monikers and typed in one of my own choosing: Misery.

"This is Misery, your friendly chauffeur!" the voice had immediately chirped at me. She hadn't stopped to take a metaphorical breath since.

Misery continues her assault on my ears. "If you look to your left, Miss. Chance, you'll see we're passing Hades Point, one of the most scenic spots on campus!"

Sure, Misery. I take in the precipitous drop as we round the bend. If by "scenic" you mean deadly.

I stare at Hades Point laid out in the distance like a casket. I picture them, all twelve students who tumbled over.