Detention with the Devil

Chapter 12: Faded Yearbooks

Faded Yearbooks

Next morning Elara arrived earlier than usual, keeping her head down and moving straight toward the library before crowds thickened. The torn register page pressed heavy and secret inside her bag. She needed to match names, find faces, trace the gaps - and yearbooks were the only place official records still let you see who had been there.

The librarian was already at her desk, sharp and watchful as always. Elara asked calmly for older volumes, keeping voice steady: "History project, Sir - early decades." She got only the ones from twenty‑five years back and further - newer ones were "restricted or missing", she was told.

She settled at a corner table far from windows and main doors, opening the first book carefully. Pages were thick, matte, edges browned by time. Photographs clear, names printed neatly below. Everything looked proper, proud, orderly... until she began checking against the list she carried hidden.

There they were - the crossed‑out names were present in these older books, faces smiling, groups posed, small notes under activities. But in volumes from the very next year onward, they vanished completely. No graduation photo, no farewell entry, no mention anywhere. It was as if they had never existed at all.

And every single time, right after their disappearance, the school's annual report or honor roll showed new funds, new facilities, new scholarships added - always "generous gifts from unnamed benefactors". Exactly the pattern: something gained, someone gone.

A soft shadow fell across her table. Elara flinched, nearly closing the book - but it was only Lila Marco, standing quiet and hunched, eyes darting nervously around before she sat quickly opposite.

"You found them," she whispered barely audible, fingers twisting the hem of her sleeve. "Everyone forgets... but the books remember if you look close enough."

"Why only scholarship students?" Elara asked quietly.

Lila swallowed hard, glanced toward the archive barrier far back. "Founders' rule written in old charter - never printed now. 'We take from outside to build within.' They say it's tradition... but it's really payment." She leaned even closer, trembling slightly. "My cousin was here - same program, same sharp grades. Then one term... gone. Said he transferred. I never heard from him again."

Before Elara could ask more, heavy footsteps echoed fast and familiar - Mr. Valdez entering the library again, scanning the room instantly. Lila slipped away like smoke between shelves before he drew near, leaving Elara alone again, heart racing.

Valdez walked slowly past her table, glancing briefly at the open yearbook, expression unchanged - but his eyes lingered a fraction too long, cold and knowing. "History projects should stay within assigned limits, Miss Cruz."

He moved on, but Elara understood clearly: they knew exactly what she was looking for. And they were letting her... for now.