Page 28 of Paper Ghosts

“No way,” Silas said.

“Swear to God. There was some big scandal about it. The band actually played at the high school, and I guess Willamena threw herself at him or something. My grandmother heard that she killed good ol’ Andy Smooth because he broke her heart.”

What? Bailey thought.

After a pause, Silas said, “Nope. It says here Andy Smooth died of a heart attack ten years ago in California.”

“How the hell did you get your phone past Mr. Reynolds?”

“I told him I left it at home.”

As the boys walked away, Cody said, “But the band really did play here in Hen Town when she was a teenager. I know that much is true. It’s in my grandmother’s yearbook from 1976. And she still has her autographed album from that day.”

When they walked by the row where Bailey was standing, they froze like deers, then hurried away, Cody saying, “She didn’t hear us, right?”

Yearbook. Why had she never thought of that? The alumni section of the high school library contained yearbooks going back decades. Bailey grabbed the Tennyson bio, then went to the secluded alumni section.

She quickly took the 1976 yearbook and turned, only to stop short.

Clutch Vallow was now standing at the end of the row, looking as beautiful and intimidating as he ever did. He was always showing up in places he shouldn’t be at school, and more often than not, those places were near Bailey. She wasn’t quite sure what to think of him. Her brain had long ago set to a default position of considering what Mim would think first, so she knew Mim wouldn’t approve of an association. But sometimes the sheer delight of a guy showing interest in her made her suck in her breath in quick surprise when she caught him staring at her.

He wasn’t moving so she could get by him, so she turned and went the long way around back to her table before Mr. Reynolds discovered what she was doing.

“Why do you have a yearbook?” Vanna Delaney asked. Bailey wasn’t fond of Vanna because she could be cruel for no reason, but Mim thought she was an advantageous ally because she was the mayor’s daughter. It was nice to have someone to walk the halls with, and to share a table in the cafeteria, but Bailey never went to Vanna’s parties or her sleepovers. Vanna found this mildly irritating, even though Bailey told her she didn’t go to anyone’s parties because she could never return the invitation at the Wester House.

“It’s from when my grandmother was a student,” Bailey said, turning to the index where it listed the students’ names alphabetically alongside the pages where photos of them could be found.

Vanna looked at her strangely. “She’s old, but I don’t think she was around when Tennyson was writing.”

“I just want to see what she looked like.” The first page she went to showed her grandmother walking down the hallway with two other girls. This was back before the new high school had been built, and Hen Town High was in a low-slung building across town.

The caption said only The Feathers.

“Which one is your grandmother?”

Captivated, Bailey pointed to the girl in the center. This was Mim at her age. She’d memorized all the photos she had of Mim, but she had never seen her so young. Her hair was long, longer than she’d ever seen it, and brushed away from her face in such a stiff, flamboyant way that it looked like wings. She was wearing a very short dress, platform loafers, and was hugging her books to her chest. She looked so innocent, and she was actually smiling, as if she enjoyed school in a way Bailey never had.

“They look like they ruled the school.”

“I’m sure they did,” Bailey said.

“The one on the left is my great-aunt Jani.” They looked up to see Tasha Keller leaning over from her table. It didn’t take much for Vanna to turn mean, and Tasha knew this very well. Bailey could still remember Vanna chasing Tasha around the playground with a dead frog in third grade, yelling, Smell this, Smeller! Bailey never did anything to stop Vanna because she was afraid it would get back to her grandmother. They weren’t her finest moments. Only necessary ones.

Don’t, Bailey tried to communicate to Tasha with a stare. But Bailey’s quiet stares weren’t ever interpreted the way she thought they were. Most people thought she was looking down on them.

“Excuse me?” Vanna said.

“She was one of the Feathers,” Tasha said.

“Go away, Smeller.”

Tasha finally looked at Bailey and something passed between them—a question, a plea, an arm reaching through the darkness.

Every summer Mim found camps for Bailey to attend, where she met people she tried to keep up with through texts. And Mim all but forced them out of the house during Christmas break, so Tug took Bailey on monthlong holidays overseas and it was very vibrant and educational. Bailey understood that Mim was probably trying to keep her occupied on school breaks, because those were the times Bailey would ask if she could have more frequent teas with her. But it didn’t do much to stop the loneliness that happened during school, a loneliness that felt a lot like the way Tasha looked right now, but no one could see Bailey’s because it had been glossed to a shine with privilege.

Tasha shrugged and turned back to her paper.

Vanna suddenly nudged her. “Quick, put that away. Mr. Reynolds is coming.”