Troy, Keenan, and I are sitting at the island with Mom and Dad across from us. Dad sets the yearbook in front of me, then crosses his arms like his wife and backs up until he's at her side. She's leaning against the stove with her head down.

It's almost dark out, and because we're losing time, she's losing hope. If it weren't for Troy, I think we'd be combing through the woods even though we know she's not out there, to avoid giving up.

The book is a shade of blue that almost looks white, and the school's name—George Michael's—is in big, gold, and black letters, while last year's date is only in black. There's a street view picture of the wide school and a pole with the American flag waving.

I flip over the hardback, and the first page is similar to the cover. The only difference is it being in black and white, and the square-shaped image is so small that there's a large white border of space around it.

I turn the page. Troy and Keenan look over my shoulder, and Dad's leaning his face up and forward like he's staring over a crowd.

There are three pictures of the administrators from their shoulders up: a man with pinkish skin, a pale blonde lady, and a dark-brown woman. Their names are in print and cursive above their smiling faces, but the principal's name stands out.

"Matthew Fuggle?" Troy snickers and glances at me out of the corner of his eye.

"Like fugly," I ask with a smile. My question makes him burst out laughing. He sets his elbow on the island, then his forehead in his palm.

"It's pronounced Fugle," Keenan says in a dry tone. I look to my right, and my mouth relaxes when I see the look he's giving me. His face is blank, and his eyelids are low.

"Like the horn," I ask, ignoring his serious attitude. He narrows his eyes and scrunches his forehead.

"Leila, cut it out and focus!" I flinch and drop my head when Dad yells. Looking out of my peripheral, Troy's pursing his lips and pulling his arm back to his side.

I continue flipping through the yearbook, occasionally stopping to snicker at the principal's big nose or other weird names.

One girl has large, frizzy brown hair like Hagrid's, and her name's Jenna Wax. It's like Troy and I are synced, because when I flip to her in the cheerleader's section, he and I share a smile. My face heats up, and my jaw vibrates. I wanna laugh, and so does he.

I reach Regina's old class, and my heart skips a beat when I see her face. She's smiling so hard that her eyes are shut, and her black box braids are in a tall ponytail that stops at her shoulders.

"Um," I mumble, then swallow bits of my nerves. My hand starts to shake, and my heart is beating loudly in my ears. This feels like picking out a criminal in a lineup. I know it's not the same, and that if we can find him, he may lead us to her, but if she doesn't trust me now, I don't think this will ever put me back in her good graces.

Just lie.

"Actually," I drone while grimacing. I slowly slam the book shut and say, "I don't think he's in here."

Dad looks at Mom as she shakes her head, and Keenan rolls his eyes onto them.

"What? Why do you say that?" Troy sets his hand on the cover and slides the yearbook closer to himself. My fingers twitch. I wanna snatch it from him, run to Regina's room, and lock myself in there until she comes home; If she comes home.

"Leila, do you not realize how serious this situation is?" We look at Keenan. He turns his head to me, and in his eyes, I see a parent's frustration. "She could be lost," he says, "or hurt."

"I doubt she's either." Keenan tosses up his hand and leans back on the bar stool, shaking his head. I bounce my attention from one person to the next. "Seriously, I think she's okay."

"You think," Keenan asks, and I take a deep breath.

"I know she's okay," I say, emphasizing know. Truthfully, I don't know anything, but I really doubt Regina's somewhere scared. I saw how popular she was at the party. She has more friends than I do in this world and in the one I'm from combined, so surely she's either at her boyfriend's house or her friends are hiding her at theirs.

"Leila, you don't know anything." Dad drops his arms, and Troy pulls his lips into a straight line. He opens the yearbook with his eyebrows raised.

"I know you'd better leave me alone before I say something I won't regret," I firmly tell him, and I mean every word. I know I messed things up in this timeline, but I refuse to sit here and let him treat me like an idiot. I'm not an idiot.

"Hey, enough!" We don't look away from each other. For once, my gaze is as hot and stern as his. If not for everyone around us, I'd pick up a chair and slam it over his head. "That's enough out of both of you!"

He peels his eyes off mine and shakes his head. I lower mine and mumble, "She's my sister."

"Yeah, well, you could've fooled me," Keenan says, raising his voice. Dad tries to shut us up, but now I'm angry and so is Keenan.

I turn my body toward him and yell in his face, "No one asked you to be here!" Spit flies from my mouth, but it doesn't stop me. "You're useless!"

"I'm useless?" He scoffs. Mom shakes her head at us and walks around the island. Dad watches her leave the kitchen. "You can't even remember your sister's boyfriend's name."

"I said that's enough," Dad hollers. I lick my lips as I turn my body forward. Keenan rolls his eyes off of me and onto my dad. "I'm getting tired of you two bickering like children!" I furrow my eyebrows. I wanna tell him we are kids, but I don't wanna make things worse. "If you two can't get along," he says while waving his finger between me and Keenan. "And you two can't keep your childish comments to yourselves," he says, waving his finger at me and Troy. "Then I'll gladly send both you boys on home. And Leila, you can spend the rest of the weekend in your room."

Dad crosses his arms, and as I look him up and down, I do the same.

I can't wait to go home. I can see myself now, pretending Keenan never existed and never talking to him again. This has been the worst experience of my life.

"Hey, I think I know who this is," Troy says, and we turn our attention to him. His eyes are big and his jaw's dropped. He has his finger on the left page, sitting on a light-skinned boy's chin. My eyes flare wide, just like my nostrils, and I lean in to get a better look.

That dark red Kangol hat, skinny gold chain, and smirk across his caramel-colored face. That's her boyfriend.

I run a hand along the side of my braids as I slowly lean away from him and stare at the countertop.

"Now we're talking." Dad steps forward, taking a deep, frustrated breath. He stands beside Troy, his arms still crossed. "What's it say," he mumbles, mostly asking himself. Troy sits his hand on the book's edge, and they read his name together, "Thomas Brown."

"Leila, is this him," Troy asks, and they stare at me. I feel like I'm sitting under a lamp while a cop is interrogating me. Where's that quicksand when you need it?

"Why would that be him?" I scoff, scrunching my face like I'm disgusted. "There's, like, ten other boys in that class."

Keenan slides his glasses off his nose and drags his other hand down his face, then he turns to me and calmly asks, "Do you not wanna find Regina or what?"

"Yes, I wanna find her," I say, but before I can continue, he interrupts me.

"Then why aren't you helping?" I lick my lips, and they vibrate against my teeth. Even my teeth are chattering, and when I try to swallow my nerves, it barely goes past the lump in my throat. I run my hands across my hair, from my forehead to the beads swinging against my upper back.

I take a deep breath, then I look at Tommy's face. I stare at his barely open eyes, bell-pepper-sized nose, full lips, and cheekbones.

I inhale, my shoulders rising to my ears. Then I exhale, and my shoulders slump over.

"I don't know who that is," I answer, looking at Dad. Truthfully, I don't know him any more than I know Troy or even Keenan, for that matter.

"We're not asking if you know him." My heart drops into my stomach. My eyes drift back to the pages. "We're asking if this is the boy she's seeing."

I shrug and mumble, "Yeah, I guess," then Troy and Dad look at each other.

"How do you know this kid," Dad asks Troy, gesturing his hand toward the page without breaking eye contact.

"He stole my bike last summer." I rub my hand up and down my arm. "I told my mom, and she went with me to his house to get it back, and his dad made him get it out of the garage." I glance at Keenan. He's staring at them, ignoring me. Troy lowers his head as he says under his breath, "Then he stole it again."

"So, you know where he lives," Dad asks him. Troy looks him in the eyes and nods.

"Yes, sir." I roll my eyes upward like they're heading to the back of my head, and my body leans back on the bar stool. I stare at the ceiling, listening to my heart and wishing those voices that sounded like mine were telling me what to do right now.

She's gonna be so angry. I just know she'll blame me for whatever punishment Dad gives her.

"That's all I need to hear," he says with raised eyebrows. Dad slides her yearbook into his arm. "Y'all get your coats on and head on outside." The three of us exchange glances, then we watch him leave the kitchen. Before stepping into the hall, he says, "I'll be out in a minute."

I stare at Troy with narrowed eyes while shaking my head.

"Thank you for helping," Keenan says while hopping off the stool, and Troy smiles from ear to ear as he does the same. I feel glued to the seat. My body is shaking like a chihuahua, and my hands are balling into fists. My knuckles pop, and my nose twitches.

"It's no big deal." Keenan walks with him to the entryway and they stand in front of the coat hooks. "To be honest, I just hate that guy enough to want him in trouble." They grab their coats and slide their arms through. Adjusting his collar while Keenan fixes his sleeve's bunched-up cuffs, he says, "I was hoping he was who we were looking for."

I step onto my shoes and slowly turn to them. If I had a pan, I'd run to them and thwack them both on the head, but all I have are my fists.

I roll my shoulders back to straighten my posture and take a breath to calm myself. It barely works. I lick my lips, then take another breath.

I force a smile and approach them, pulling my fists behind my back.

"That was so nice of you to tell my dad who my sister is dating," I drag my words with a toothy grin. Keenan lifts his hat off the hook and cuts his eyes at me. Troy glances at him with furrowed eyebrows.

"Yeah, like, I said it's no big deal," he says with a questioning tone. He lifts his hands beside his neck and flips his hood over his head.

"Actually," I begin, squinting my eyes and taking a step closer to him. "It kind'a is a big deal." Keenan rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He turns to the front door, and Troy glances at him out of the corner of his eye. "Y'a see, my sister can be pretty mean when she feels like someone snaked her."

"I don't see what that has to do with us." Keenan turns the knob and pulls the door back. "She's missing, and I wanted to help find her."

The wind blows leaves into the entryway, but Troy and I don't break eye contact.

"Y'know what? I get why you don't care. Your parents divorced," I say, and Keenan slowly turns at the hips to stare at me with wide eyes, but I continue, "So, the idea of loyalty is foreign to you." Troy drops his jaw and his eyebrows. Neither of them responds, so I shrug and pout my lip. "It is what it is. Now, move so I can get my jacket."