I wasn’t sure the yearbooks would offer much help, since the kids had been learning remotely for half the year and few pictures had been submitted. But I hoped to at least find a name and face that possibly matched BS’s identity. The books were at knee height, so I leaned down to read the years printed on the spine, running my finger across each once. At the end of the row, I immediately noticed a telltale gap where the newest yearbook should have been. Had I misplaced it, like I did my food and coffee? As spooky as the library was, it just hadn’t jumped off the shelf on its own (I hoped).

Moving on, I pulled out the yearbook from two years ago, pre-COVID, back when life and school still resembled normalcy. With legs folded, I sat on the hard floor, set Vera’s journal aside, and flipped through the yearbook pages, my own high school memories loitering in the background. Starting with Vera’s ninth-grade class, I searched every BS name in her entire grade and came up with no hits. Perhaps she’d known the person before starting high school and he or she was in the grade below her. I doubted my shy little Vera would have befriended someone in a grade above her, but I’d search the entire school if I had to. By the second page of tenth graders, I found a Brittney Sawyer, a Brandy Shoemaker, and a Blythe Sampson. No boys had the initials, which was both a curiosity and a relief.

With three top choices to narrow down, I had no idea which girl it could be. Brittney, wearing glasses and a modest turtleneck, appeared the most likely match—the kind of wholesome, bookish girl Vera would gravitate toward. Brandy, with tidy rings of blonde and flawless makeup, proudly thrust her perky breasts toward the camera, plastered-on smile exuding mindless enthusiasm. She had to be a cheerleader. Definitely not Vera’s crowd. Next up was the incongruously named Blythe, who looked anything but cheerful and pleasant. Purplish-black hair styled in bat wing bangs. Extravagant vampiress eyelashes framing lime green eyes. Matte black lips curled in a seductive smirk. Pentagram hoop earrings and spiked choker. Matching leather and lace top. Clearly this girl was making A Statement—though I wasn’t sure what it was. One glare from Goth Girl would have sent Vera running. Brittney, it was.