UNTIL THE SEMESTER ENDS

THE PHOTOGRAPHS

Mia

I couldn't stop thinking about the message.

You should leave Harper alone.

I had read it so many times that I could almost see the words whenever I closed my eyes.

Someone knew.

That was the part I couldn't understand.

I hadn't told anyone about the yearbook.

Not Valerie.

Not Paige.

Not even Abby.

Especially not Abby.

I slipped my phone into my pocket as I walked toward class.

The hallway was crowded with students, but somehow, I felt alone.

Every person who walked past made me wonder the same thing.

Was it them?

Ridiculous.

I knew that.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me.

---

Classes felt longer than usual.

I barely wrote anything down.

My mind kept returning to the photograph in the yearbook.

Harper Smith.

There had been something familiar about her.

Something I couldn't place.

I needed to see it again.

But this time, I wasn't going to look at the name.

I was going to look at everything.

---

During lunch, I told Valerie I wasn't hungry.

She frowned.

“You barely ate yesterday.”

“I'm fine.”

“You've been saying that a lot lately.”

I smiled.

“I'm just tired.”

Valerie studied me.

Then she sighed.

“Fine. But if you collapse, I'm not carrying you.”

I laughed softly.

“I'll keep that in mind.”

Paige was distracted by her phone, so I took the opportunity.

“I'll be back.”

“Where are you going?” Valerie asked.

“Library.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Again?”

I paused.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I need a book.”

It wasn't completely a lie.

Just not the whole truth.

---

The library was almost empty.

I walked straight toward the archive section.

My footsteps sounded strangely loud against the floor.

I found the shelf.

Three years ago.

Westbridge Academy.

I pulled the yearbook out.

Dust floated through the sunlight as I carried it to the same table.

I opened it.

My fingers moved quickly through the pages.

Sports.

Clubs.

School events.

Graduation.

Then—

STUDENT HIGHLIGHTS.

I stopped.

There she was.

Harper Smith.

I stared at the photograph again.

This time, I studied every detail.

Her hair.

Her eyes.

The shape of her face.

Her smile.

Something about her still felt familiar.

But I couldn't figure out why.

I read the paragraph beneath the photograph.

Harper had been described as a hardworking student who had been involved in several school activities.

Nothing unusual.

Nothing that explained why her name made everyone uncomfortable.

Then I noticed something.

A small photograph at the bottom of the page.

A group of students.

I leaned closer.

Harper was standing in the middle.

And beside her—

I froze.

I knew that face.

My eyes widened.

“No…”

I leaned even closer.

There was no mistake.

The girl standing beside Harper was Abby.

---

For several seconds, I couldn't move.

Abby.

Three years ago.

At Westbridge.

With Harper.

My mind raced.

I looked at the photograph again.

Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe it was someone who looked like her.

But the more I stared, the more certain I became.

It was Abby.

The same eyes.

The same small smile.

Even the tiny scar near her eyebrow.

My heart started beating faster.

Why had Abby never mentioned knowing Harper?

I turned the page.

There were more photographs.

A school event.

A debate competition.

A charity program.

And there they were again.

Harper and Abby.

Always close.

Sometimes standing together.

Sometimes laughing.

Once, Harper had her arm around Abby's shoulder.

I swallowed.

This wasn't a coincidence.

They knew each other.

But why had Abby lied?

---

I turned back to the first photograph.

Something caught my attention.

Written underneath the group picture was a caption.

Westbridge Student Leadership Team — Annual Charity Drive.

Then beneath it were names.

I scanned them.

Harper Smith.

Abby—

I stopped.

The name beside Abby wasn't what I expected.

I read it again.

Abigail Carter.

My heart dropped.

Abigail.

Not Abby.

I quickly took out my phone and opened my messages.

I searched Abby's contact.

Her full name had never appeared.

Just Abby.

I stared at the yearbook.

Then at my phone.

Why would she use a different name now?

Maybe it was nothing.

Maybe Abby was just a nickname.

But something didn't feel right.

I turned the page again.

At the bottom corner was another photograph.

This one was different.

Harper wasn't smiling.

Neither was Abby.

They were standing outside one of the school buildings.

And between them was another student.

Someone had written something on the photograph.

A single word.

After.

I frowned.

After what?

I reached for the page.

Then I heard footsteps.

I immediately closed the yearbook.

Someone was coming.

I looked around.

The footsteps grew louder.

I grabbed the yearbook and stood up.

The librarian appeared at the end of the aisle.

“Mia?”

I forced a smile.

“Yes?”

“You've been here for quite some time.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

She glanced at the yearbook in my hands.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

Mia hesitated.

Then I nodded.

“Not exactly.”

She smiled faintly.

“Sometimes old books answer questions we didn't know we had.”

I looked down at the yearbook.

That didn't feel comforting.

It felt like a warning.

---

I returned the yearbook.

But before I left, I looked back at the shelf.

Three years ago.

Westbridge Academy.

Harper Smith.

Abby.

Or Abigail Carter.

Whatever her real story was, I knew one thing now.

She had known Harper.

And she had lied to me.

---

When I returned to the hostel, Abby was sitting on her bed.

She looked up.

“Where were you?”

“The library.”

Her expression changed.

Only slightly.

But I noticed.

“What were you doing there?”

I dropped my bag beside my bed.

“Reading.”

“Reading what?”

I looked directly at her.

“Old yearbooks.”

Silence.

Abby's face went pale.

I watched her carefully.

“You okay?”

She swallowed.

“Yeah.”

“You don't look okay.”

“I said I'm fine.”

I nodded.

Then I asked casually,

“Did you ever participate in the Westbridge charity drive?”

Abby froze.

Just for a second.

But it was enough.

“I don't remember.”

I smiled.

“You should.”

Her eyes met mine.

“Why?”

I shrugged.

“No reason.”

I turned away.

I didn't want her to see how nervous I was.

Because now I had proof.

Not enough to understand everything.

But enough to know that Abby had been hiding something.

And if Harper had disappeared three years ago…

Then Abby knew more about what happened than she was willing to admit.

My phone buzzed.

I looked down.

Another message.

Stop digging.

I stared at the screen.

Then another one appeared.

Ask Abby what happened after the photograph was taken.

My blood ran cold.

I slowly looked across the room.

Abby was watching me.

And for the first time…

She looked afraid.