She nods and looks at folder on the desk. “What’s that?”
“That’s a memorial page we’re adding to the yearbook.”
“For Rose?”
I shake my head. “For a girl named Jacqueline Cates. She went missing in 1991 and was found murdered a few days later.”
She blinks. “You’re fucking with me.”
“Nope.”
She picks up the file and opens it, looking at a few photos we found in the archives. “She looks cool. How come we never heard about this? I mean, even thirty years apart, two missing girls from the same small town is kind of a notable event.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.” I lean back in my seat. “You know, she worked at Kendrick’s.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, you should ask your dad about her. Maybe he remembers her.”
This is the first civil conversation the two of us has had in weeks. Go figure it’s over a dead girl.
“Are you wearing that blue dress to the dance?”
We’d found dresses over the summer at a thrift store in the city, with plans to wear them to the dance—together.
“I haven’t had time to find something else, so yeah, I think so.”
“Are you going with Ozzy?”
Am I? Honestly, we haven’t discussed it. Ozzy and I go to the games together because the guys are playing. But the dance? Ozzy isn’t my only boyfriend right now. There’s no way to show up with three guys as your date, is there? Would they even want to do that?
This is where things get complicated.
“I’m probably just going to meet up with some people there. You know how it is.”
She nods, and thankfully doesn’t ask me to go with her. I’m not ready for that, either.
The intercom sparks to life, breaking up what was turning into an awkward moment.
Excuse the interruption, but it’s time to head out to the parking lot for the parade. If you’re walking, riding, or participating in any way, please head to your meeting spot right away. If you’re not, find a good spot to watch!
I lock up the office and meet Ozzy in the main room. We wait until Alice gathers her stuff and leaves before heading out ourselves and closing up the room.
“What was that all about?”
“Business, but she saw the memorial file on Jackie. I told her to ask her dad if he remembered anything about her since she worked at the shop.”
The hallways are packed with everyone headed out to the parade. The band walks through carrying their instruments, trapping me and Ozzy by one of the trophy cases. I look up at him and laugh. “We should have left five minutes ago.”
His hand slips around my waist, using the chaos to pull me close. A guy holding a tuba lumbers down the hall, and I turn toward the case to make sure he doesn’t knock my head off. There are dozens of trophy cases around the school, the most prestigious awards up by the main office for everyone, particularly visitors, to see. Every few years they rotate them, pushing the older ones downstairs. The ones down here in the Arts hall are more of a hodge-podge of plaques and ribbons from the past. I press my head against the glass and something catches my eye.
I tap on the case. “Oz, look.”
The side of his head touches mine as he looks down.
“That plaque, do you see it?”
“Holy shit.” His fingers tighten around my waist as he reads the engraving aloud. “Debate Team—Tri-State Competition, 1991. First prize, Thistle Cove High School. Team: Brice Waller and Jacqueline Cates.”