What now? I had a teenager’s name, but not her parents’. Or her address. Or any other information about her. How did I find out who her parents were since teenagers’ names weren’t listed online? I knew this because I had searched; kids’ information was locked up tight. And even if I was able to locate Brittney’s parents, could I show up unannounced at her house and ask her what happened to Vera? I had no idea what I was supposed to do with this tiny morsel of information…if it was even that.

I could present this information to the cops, but they’d want to know how I came up with Brittney as a potential lead. It wasn’t like I could say her name suddenly came to mind after six months. And turning over the journal to the cops, well, I already decided that wasn’t an option. Maybe Vera could advise me. I opened her journal back to the place where she first mentioned BS, back when BS was a friend while Mommie Dearest was becoming the enemy. Her words were so angry at me. Unforgiving. Vengeful.

BS is the only friend I have. The only person I trust. I used to think my mom was that person, but all she does is lie and hurt people. One day it’ll catch up to her. I hope it hurts when it happens. She deserves it. At least I have my art and BS now.

Her art and BS. I wondered if they had met in art class. My gaze skipped between yearbook and journal and back again, page after page, leaping between pictures and words. Then I stalled on a yearbook page. There was my beautiful daughter, easel in one hand, brush in the other, surrounded by smiling faces. All but one. The girl standing beside her. Goth Girl.

Below the picture was a caption listing their names:

…Vera Portman, Blythe Sampson…

So BS was Goth Girl. I hadn’t seen that alliance coming. It was a hard friendship to make sense of. Vera was a band nerd, a bookworm, a goody-goody. Blythe looked like a rebel, a reject, a troublemaker. But maybe that’s what attracted Vera to her polar opposite in the first place—someone different. Someone who made her feel alive. Once upon a time I could understand that. Once upon a time I lived it, I was that Good Girl Turned Rebel. But I was more reasonable now. Perhaps Vera had found her rebellious streak after all. I just wished it wouldn’t have cost everyone so dearly.

In the upper corner of the page was Goth Girl’s doctorly scribble:

Thx for being my biotch. U always got my back, and I always got urs. If u ever need help with u-know-what, I’m here for u. Ur gonna survive, and I’ll be the biotch standing with u. – BS