"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Lara muttered under her breath. She stormed across the courtyard toward the parking lot, jaw clenched, oblivious to students forced to sidestep her path. Her heels clacked against the pavement in sharp, quick steps.

She yanked the car door open and flung herself in. She clenched her hands on the wheel.

What was she supposed to do now?

She had nothing to go off. No face, no number, no clue how to find her. Just a name. And even that was shaky. Her mother wasn't even sure she'd remembered it right.

Kelly. Kelly Something. There were millions of Kellies on social media. 

She pressed her forehead against the wheel. Her skull throbbed, thoughts battering her mind like a fist pounding against a door, about to break it.

She jerked upright, her back smacking against the seat. No. There was something.

When Lara arrived at her family home, it was just after 1 p.m. She opened the Find My app. Her mom was out, still at her Pilates class, about fifteen minutes away.

Lara jumped out of the car, her feet moving on instinct. She unlocked the front door and hurried upstairs, stopping outside the second room on the right. Her stomach churned. She swallowed hard.

She pressed the handle and pushed the door open, but didn't step inside. Every time she came here, she was met with the same heaviness. It was that familiar, dense sadness that crushed her like a thousand pound boulder.

Her eyes swept the room. It was pristine. It was the only room in the house the house cleaner was forbidden to touch. Lara's mother handled it herself. Each Sunday, she came in, closed the door, and cleaned everything with ritualistic care. Each item was dusted separately. The navy-blue bedsheets—unchanged since Bradley last slept in them over ten years ago—were perfectly made, as if someone from Architectural Digest was about to come in, cameras in  hand, ready to film.

Lara stepped in with a heavy heart. Unlike her mom, she could only face this bedroom once a year—on Brad's birthday—and it always ended the same way. With her wailing for an hour, using a half a pack of tissues, and eventually falling asleep to pounding headache, clutching an oversized plush squirrel that had sat on his bed since he hit twelve. 

She drew in a deep breath. The air in the room felt frozen in time, swallowed by the eerie silence since the day Bradley died. 

Her  gaze moved to the shelf lined with sports trophies and medals. Eleven in total. Each a proof of her brother's drive and ambition. Nearby, a few framed photos caught her eye. Some from one game or another. A few with friends. A couple with her. In every one, Bradley wore a wide smile.

Her fingers trailed along a row of video games. She tapped an old PlayStation, wondering if it still worked, but she didn't decide to try to switch it on. This wasn't why she was here.

She crossed the room to a bookshelf—it was sparse, since Bradley never was a reader—and she pulled out a school yearbook.

Sitting on the floor, she opened it across her lap. Kelly could be somewhere in here.

She flipped through the pages slowly. A few familiar faces appeared. Tom was one of them. He was one of Brad's best friends back then. The scrawny teen with big front teeth who spent whole weekends at their house. She remembered the two of them yelling about video games late into the night.

Her stomach twisted tighter, her hands clammy with nerves. Dozens of teen faces stared back at her. But none were her.

Mark. Amy. Jennifer. Denise.

Smith. Brown. Tran. May.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Kelly.

Kelly Turner. 

Lara stared at the photo. This wasn't what she expected. Kelly's cheeks were full, her big eyes almost deer-like, framed by a badly cut fringe. A shy smile touched her thin lips.  She seemed awkward. Completely harmless. Like someone who couldn't yet talk to boys, not someone who would lie about rape.

But looks could be deceiving. 

Lara pulled her iPhone out and snapped a picture. Still, she didn't close the yearbook. Kelly was a common name. She needed to ensure she got the right girl. 

She kept flipping. And then she found another one. 

Kelly Bennett. 

A completely different girl. Beautiful, with full lips and a warm, deep complexion. Her hair was straightened, her makeup subtle but well put together. She looked polished. Confident. Popular. More like Bradley's type.

Lara took a photo of her, too. 

When she finished flipping through the yearbook, she was left with the two possibilities.

Kelly Turner and Kelly Bennett.