I comb through literally every yearbook from the past fifteen years. Just in case Cyrus looks much younger than he actually is. I’m doing this because I also suspect that you can’t find files of Elite members here. They surely try to keep their records private, right?
But as I’m scanning through the thirteenth yearbook, the feeling of uneasiness inside my chest intensifies. I can’t find a single person that looks like him, even as I try to imagine my mentor without his long hair and his anchor beard.
By the time I grab the last yearbook in my hands, I’m almost accepting fate. Almost. There are still a few pages for me left. A few pages of hope. I don’t want to think about what I’m going to do if I don’t find his face in them.
And that’s exactly what happens. I feel numb inside as I star
