At the bottom of the page, she found what she was looking for—yearbook back issues. Many of the older ones had been donated, which meant not all years were available. Jessica skimmed through the list and was relieved to find a yearbook from 1986 was for sale. The purchase price for yearbooks three years or older was fifty bucks. Jessica winced. High school nostalgia trips clearly didn’t come cheap.

There was an email address and direct telephone line for placing orders. She tapped the number into her cell phone. After a brief conversation with the office manager, a woman named Debbie Klug, Jessica had confirmation the school definitely still had a copy of the 1986 yearbook. Better still, it could be collected in person if she was in the neighborhood. Jessica figured the drive out to Van Nuys would be a lot faster than waiting for a delivery and would also save her the ten dollars shipping.

Thirty minutes later, Jessica was sitting in front of the school’s main building in a parking lot crammed full of every kind of vehicle imaginable. Sensible sedans, cute little sports cars, gleaming 4X4 trucks. Most of them were more impressive than the car she’d owned before upgrading to the Silverado. When Jessica was at school, she hadn’t even had a car. She’d had a MetroCard for the subway.

She went through the school’s main entrance and wandered down a wide, empty hallway with cold gray lockers on either side and buzzing fluorescent lights overhead. She felt like she’d traveled back in time ten years to her own high school days and was running late for class.

The loud squeaking of her shoes on the shiny linoleum announced her arrival as she reached the office at the end of the hallway. Sitting behind a cluttered desk was a woman in her sixties with short spiky hair dyed an alarming shade of magenta. She wore turquoise glasses and a bright-green dress and looked up at Jessica with an inquisitive smile.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I called earlier about a yearbook.”

“Oh, I didn’t expect you to get here quite so soon. I’m Debbie. I spoke to you on the phone. I have the yearbook right here.”

Debbie reached into one of the desk drawers and pulled out an A4-size hardback book with a faded burgundy cover and light-blue lettering. She slipped the book into a large brown envelope and scotch-taped it shut. Jessica took the yearbook and handed over two twenties and a ten and watched as the office manager locked the cash in a small metal box. Jessica was itching to get back to the truck and rip open the parcel and trawl through the photos. Just as she was about to thank the woman and leave, Debbie launched into a conversation.