Before I can collect on my promise to investigate The disappearance  I needed evidence  that Rachel Young  even went to Redwood. There were two ways to gather this information. One: The old librarian Mrs.Clinton. She had been working here since long before 2000. She was slightly dotty but on account of school history her mind was sharp as a tack.  The other way would be the Redwood database.  This holds everything from, school fee invoices, teacher pay, documents for school events, and of course past student records. Mrs.Clinton, though having an exceptional memory, often mixed them up.  To confirm what she said I'd have to go to the database anyway. There was just one minor problem.  

The Redwood school database is the most meticulously guarded thing I've ever heard of. You have to sign in with an individual faculty login and that’s assuming you make it through the 4 firewalls in place. Once you're logged in you need to get past multiple different firewalls depending on what section you're trying to access. I need help. I need a hacker.  But this is a High School, Hackers don’t just offer their services. But this is Redwood so I happen to be close friends with one of the best hackers in the Business. Dani Gallina. 

“So let me get this straight,” Says Dani skeptically. “You want me to hack into the school database and pull some old student records from, what, twenty years ago?” Dani is known at school for being a hacker.  If you need a quick grade change. Or a certain margin of error pulled from your record. You just have to come to her with a bunch of lollies and some decent wifi. 

“Yes essentially but not just any student record. Rachel Young's alleged records”. 

Dani’s head snapped around so fast that it shocked me “Rachel Young, from the stories”? 

“Yeah I made a bet that I could find the origin of the story” I say.
“And you need to find any Rachel Young from 2000 to see if she even existed”.  Dani says. 

“Yeah exactly”. I say.
“Ok i’m in but I need my Incentive first” Dani says. I hand her a packet of sour straps and she opens her laptop. Like every other girl at Redwood Dani has a price. Unlike many other girls she doesn’t set her price for the money, she sets it for the challenge, the love of the game, she likes coding, and breaking into networks without having to leave her chair. She lives for this world and it lives for her. 

“I need to work in silence. I'll call you  when I'm in”.  She points for the door and I leave the room.

In at least one hour Dani will call me with news. And whatever she says will determine whether or not I have  (for lack of a better word)  a chance in hell of winning this bet I threw myself into with Maddie. 

Hey come see this  Dani texts me. 

 I venture to the tech lab. I see Her with a hoodie over her head. Against all uniform policies of course. The room is dark except for the light of the computer illuminating her face. She looks like a regular black hat hacker. Though not many of those flawlessly and without so much as a rumour of detection.   hacked into the FBI from Australia when they were thirteen. 

 I walk up to the computer and see what appears to be the Redwood database. Next to it is a long list of codes I have no understanding of. “So here it is” Dani says officially. “I ran an algorithm to search for any Rachel young that attended Redwood in the past 30 years. I made sure that the algorithm searched the history in case something got taken down”. She moves her mouse and clicks on one of the Rachel young profiles that don’t have a photo. 

“Rachel Young attended Redwood to graduate in the class of 2000. Except She was abruptly pulled out midyear.”

 I scan the page. Could this be her?  Did I find Rachel? 

“Oh there’s one more thing”. Dani says “Look over here. Every student that gets pulled out has the reason on their student records. Except for Rachel. It just says confidential. Now I coded a search. No one else has  that on their profile.” Dani turns to me. “Rocks, I think we found her”. 

This Rachel Young bet was coming at the wrong time. Like most things in my life. I simply don’t have enough breath for it. I’m giving my entire life force to something else right now.  Work. Between balancing year nine and working two jobs to support my Grandmother and myself. I’m packed. It’s not that we don’t have money. It’s that my deadass grandfather spent the early 2000’s bumming off my Grandmother. Between that and those way too expensive Redwood tuition fees that I just “had to have”.  we’re in debt.  

“Myers focus”. Says my manager Riley at the Burger Bunch my job. I was serving up some fries except I had just put a burger there instead. I apologised to the customer, fixed my mistake and served the correct order.  The rest of the day I tried extra hard to concentrate on serving correct orders, busing tables and manning the drive through.  I had to endure hours of cat calling by the stupid eshays that come here. If they didn’t tip so generously I would flip them off, take their stupid bumbags and shove where the sun don’t shine.  

 After I hang up my tacky pink and green apron. I quickly changed into a long green picnic skirt with a matching top. 

Because most people would have to choose between a university tuition or new shoes if they wanted to shop at the store I  work at. It was pretty relaxed. This gave me a lot of time to think. Usually I spend this extra time on homework but my mind is dead set on Rachel. Where did she go? Did she plan on coming back? These were the questions that buzzed in the air of  the Jacaranda Blush boutique. 

When I get home I am greeted by my amazing grandmother. I don’t call her grandma or nanna or another classic name. I call her  Bets. Because she says she’s a betty.  Bets isn’t one of those sweet grandmothers you play scrabble with and listen to ‘Back in my day’ stories. But she isn’t one of those annoying ones who have beef with everything modern and intuitive. She’s special, she can’t for the life of her understand flower parenting or keto diets but always engages in political and humanitarian discussions. She’s the best of both worlds. 

Bets doesn’t resemble your stereotypical grandmother either.  She has dark brown hair that gracefully falls in mystical curls. Her eyes are dark green and her skin is clear and bright. Not a wrinkle, not a blemish.  Most people are confused by my grandmother.   All though she really is my grandmother she’s only in her mid forties. Bets had my Ma at 15 and my Ma had me at the same age. The difference between Bets and my Ma is that my Ma choked and ran leaving me to be raised by Bets. I’m not complaining, I love Bets.  But sometimes I wish my mum had it more together so I can see her outside of the times that she gets admitted to rehab. 

“Roxanne come help with the cooking”. Bets is the only person I allow to use my full name. She’s the only person that’s ever insisted on it.  I walk into the kitchen. Bets eyes my absurd outfit and I walk right upstairs to change into my own clothes. I throw on some jeans, an old T-shirt  and go downstairs. 

Bets is chopping up onions on a big cutting board.  She points her big knife over to the side of the board where  two ripe tomatoes and a shiny knife with a wooden handle  “Chop up these” she says. I take the knife and slice through the tomato flesh. “How was school”? Asks Bets.
“Pretty good”. I reply. Suddenly I remember something. “Hey Bets  Ma went to Redwood for a few years right”. 

Bets tensed up as she usually did when we talked about mum. “That's right. She got a  sports scholarship for basketball.”  

“Right and did she go in the year 2000”? I ask. 

“No, she met your father. She stuck around a bit but left when his broke ass decided he wanted to be a musician.” I don’t know much about my father and I don’t want to know much about him. He knocked up my Mum then left her, pregnant, broke and scared. The way I see it, he left our life and we left his. Bets takes a more aggressive approach using any and every opportunity to insult him and unspokenly remind me that half of my genetics are that of an irresponsible, immature, bad man. Ma on the other hand won’t talk about my father because she’s still not over him. Ma’s still traumatised by his actions so the topic of my paternity is tread around very lightly. 

 Bets turns around and stares at me. “Why do you ask”? 

I shrug “I don't know we are doing a project on noticeable alumni at school”. 

The lie slips out like silk. Bets resumes her  cooking. “Well I'll tell you one thing. If anyone is noticeable it’s your mother. When she told her coach that she was dropping out he went ballistic. He called the principal and they both lectured her on why she shouldn’t go. Of course my daughter just had to go against everyone. She walked out of the office setting off a fire alarm. A real action movie move”. Bets looked distant, Nostalgic. She and my mum didn’t have the best relationship. They still don’t but I know that Bets wishes differently even if she won’t say it. 

So talking to Bets gave me a thread. A very tiny very thin thread. My mum would have been at Redwood with Rachel for about a two year overlap. Redwood is a big school but it’s not That big. And if Rachel really was the straight A, academic genius the stories credit her for that My mother was bound to have known of her at least.  

 I take refuge in my room. I dial Ma’s number. Nothing. I'll try again, Nadda. This is so typical of her. How is it that no matter how much I call or when I call or even why I call she can’t pick up. Can’t take ten minutes out of her partying life to talk to her own kid. I will try one more time. She picks up. Relief, mixed with genuine surprise washes over me. “Hi Baby”. Ma says on the phone over the sound of laughter and music. Predictable. “Hi Ma, can we talk?” I say, raising my voice so she can hear me. “Sure,” She says. I hear faint footsteps on the phone and a door shuts muffling the sound of music. “What’s up baby, do you need bail money? ”. She says with a hint of concern.  

“What Ma no when have I ever needed bail”? I stutter. 

“Well anyways what can i help you with”. Typical Ma a party animal never really outgrown her misspent youth but talk like a proper deb.  

“Ma when you went to Redwood did you know Rachel Young,  probably in year 10 or 11. Ring a bell?”

Ma scoffs “Ugh Rachel I thought I was done with the awful girl  when I left that dull school.” 

I laugh at my mothers remarks. “So you knew her”. I ask 

“Knew her. Every Buggering assembly she was called up congratulated or awarded for some academic achievement or other.” 

“ok “ I say as I take a note pad and a pen. “What was she like though”. 

I hear my mother cackle from her end of the line. “Rachel Young was sweet, nice, smart and a massive phoney”.  

“How so” I ask, jotting something down. 

“Well around teachers she was perfect but let's just say I had some friends”.  She says in such a way that I can tell she means something shady. “What of your friends?'' I ask.
“They were entrepreneurs”. She suggests 

“Drug dealers” I ask plainly 

“Ring runners” she replies.
My pen drops to the floor. 

“There was a drug ring at Redwood” I hiss

“There still is,” She replies. 

“Wait so what about Rachel”  I say not letting go of the drug ring but deciding to circle back to it. 

“Well not very often does The princess of perfects come  for crack, from the snake charmers.’ Ma says sarcastically That was the name of the ring. She came asking for something to get her grades up. Little nightmareAnyways they gave her Ritalin and that was it”. Rachel Young was Redwood's greatest con. 

“So there is a drug ring at Redwood called the snake charmers. And I know about it now.” I hiss

“Yeah. I guess. I’m actually not too surprised you don’t know about it. Those aren’t exactly the kind of crowds you mix around with, are they? If you want I can show you how to find them although the drop off location for deals changes randomly so it may not be of much use”. She says. 

I smile. My Ma has never shown any interest in me or my life. Now she's offering help. However little it’s still something. “Ok I respond”. 

“Great , well when I first discovered the snake charmers they were meeting behind some classrooms on Celbourne, then they moved it behind this tree by the fence near the street. Probably so it looked like someone dumped the drugs there if they were ever found. After that they moved it to a science classroom but only behind a certain project that would be long gone.” 

I sigh. There wasn’t much I could use. “Well anyways thanks for offering”. I begin to hang up but then my mum says. “Wait, there’s one more thing. That Redwood eve”. She begins 

“Yeah what of it”. 

“Well that’s not how it worked when I was in school but more or less there’s a bug on it. Some smart chick hacked it and planted a secret page. Whenever they change the meeting point they supposedly post a riddle hiding the location. You're good at riddles so this should be easy”. 

“Ok, that's really helpful but how do I find the page”. I ask.  

“Baby The page is hidden in plain sight. Just like the snake charmers. Something that everyone sees but no one questions. That's all I know”. She hangs up. I put my phone down and pulled out my laptop. I click on the Redwood eve shortcut   And the home page pulls up. I scan the page. Looking for a link or a glitch or anything to show me what’s actually behind this. I Stare at the page. Everything is perfectly in place. The counselling page. The class list, the extracurricular list underneath, My profile, that due work that has been pending since i first opened up my eve page. Wait.

That stupid due work  notification had been there since I came to Redwood. I never questioned it. Just like the snake charmers wanted. I click it. Nothing. Just a white page. Blank. I click again. I’m swinging and missing here. A new page pops up. This one looks nothing like the traditional Redwood aesthetic. Instead of Red and Black. It was all black. Except for a slightly lighter black. It read a few words that I couldn’t make out. Then beneath  a  white text bar which is blank. I try to type something in. I write Snake charmers.  I jump when red block text Flashes on the page writing. INCORRECT ANSWER. Incorrect answer. To what question?

“What question”? I ask myself.  My eyes travel up to the barely visible writing. “Of course,” I say. In plain sight.  I run downstairs to get my phone. “Oh good you’re down, help me set the table.”  Bets says. I sigh. The snake charmers will just have to wait. “  I take the glass plates off Bets. “Um Bets why are there three plates here”? I ask. 

“Oh I’m having a friend over for dinner tonight”. She says. 

“Is it Katy”? I ask hopefully. Katy’s a friend of Bet's. She's like that aunt that you can talk to about boys, who always offers you alcohol. When she comes to dinner it’s always the best. 

Before Bets can respond the doorbell rings. I run to get it. When I open the door  My smile drops dead off my face. It was not Katy.