The whispers in the hallway always faded when Harper passed by.
Like the walls remembered more than the people did.
She clutched her notebook tightly, the edges worn from flipping pages and scribbling theories. But today wasn't about guessing. Today was about finding someone-anyone-who remembered Jamie Lorne.
Jamie, with the uneven handwriting. Jamie, who used to hum old jazz songs while solving equations. Jamie, who once told Harper that some truths only showed up in silence.
She stormed toward the cafeteria with a mission in her eyes.
People turned to look, maybe sensing the urgency in her step, but none of them paused. None of them said, "Hey, Harper, where've you been?" or "Did Jamie come back too?"
Because to them, Jamie Lorne didn't exist.
To Harper, he was everything that still made the world feel real.
She slid into the seat across from Maxie Brynn, a junior known for her freakishly good memory and obsession with student trivia. Maxie blinked behind oversized glasses.
"Uh... hi?"
"Do you remember Jamie Lorne?" Harper asked without preamble.
Maxie frowned, head tilting. "Is that a brand?"
Harper exhaled sharply. "He was a student. Tall, wore too many layers even in spring, kind of sarcastic but brilliant in math ...kind..cute."
Maxie shrugged. "Sorry. Doesn't ring a bell. New transfer?"
Harper bit her tongue. "No. He was here. In this school. In this building."
She stood before Maxie could throw in another clueless apology. She needed someone better. Someone nosy. Someone old enough to have been around last year ...this year.
Her next stop: the archives room.
Dust swirled in golden shafts of sunlight as Harper dug through a drawer of past class rosters. She flipped pages quickly, scanning every name under "L."
No Lorne. No Jamie.
She checked again. Nothing.
Then, a memory jolted through her—Jamie's voice whispering in the darkened hallway--"If they forget me, don't let yourself forget too."
Harper slammed the drawer shut and ran for the library.
Twenty minutes later, she sat cross-legged between two bookshelves, her laptop open, the school blog from two years ago on the screen. She searched for "Jamie Lorne."
Nothing.
But just as she was about to give up, an old article caught her eye. It wasn't about Jamie—it was about a chess tournament. She clicked anyway.
At the bottom, in a blurry photo, stood a boy in the background. Not part of the match. Just watching.
He wore a dark hoodie, sleeves pushed up. His hands were in his pockets. His smile was small.
It was Jamie.
Harper zoomed in until the pixels blurred, but it was him. She knew it.
She printed the photo, circled the face, and added it to her notebook. A trace. Finally.
As she walked out of the library, something strange happened.
A boy walking past her—one she didn't know—paused, staring at the paper in her hand.
"Wait... I think I've seen him before," he said slowly.
Harper's breath caught. "Where?"
He pointed vaguely. "That hall near the west wing. The one with the covered doors. I saw someone like him in the reflection once. I thought it was just me."
Harper's eyes narrowed. "Reflection?"
He nodded, uneasy. "In the trophy case. You know how sometimes you see... things, but they're not really there?"
She didn't answer. She just turned and walked away.
The west hall again.
Room 13A might've vanished from the blueprints.
But Harper was done pretending it had taken Jamie with it.
Now she was going to take him back