The fluorescent lights of Riverside High buzz overhead as Lisa makes her way through the empty morning hallways, each step echoing against the polished floors. She passes Hannah's old locker - now stripped bare, its metal surface reflecting the harsh light like a mirror. Someone's left a small bundle of dried flowers at its base, the petals crushed and faded. The sight makes Lisa's stomach turn.

  Three weeks since Hannah's "suicide," and already the whispers have started to fade. Life at Riverside marches on, an endless parade of college acceptances and carefully curated Instagram stories. As if Hannah Marshall hadn't spent years walking these same halls. As if she hadn't mattered at all.

  "You didn't kill yourself," Lisa whispers to the empty corridor, her words barely audible over the distant sounds of early morning practice. "I know you didn't."

  The pieces keep falling into place, each one more damning than the last. Mr. Rosenberg's cryptic conversations about "making problems disappear." The convenient timing of Hannah discovering Amber's diagnosis. The way Nate's eyes had shifted during that late-night drive, carrying shadows she'd never seen before. And now Alex Winters - vanished as completely as if she'd never existed.

  Lisa's hand trembles slightly as she pushes open the door to Student Administration. The familiar scent of coffee and printer toner washes over her as she spots Mrs. Bucher behind the main desk, her reading glasses perched precariously on her nose as she sorts through a stack of papers.

  "Good morning, Mrs. Bucher," Lisa summons her most innocent smile - the one that's gotten her extra credit in English for three years running. "Covering for Mrs. Hernández today?"

  Mrs. Bucher looks up with a heavy sigh, her silver bangles clinking as she gestures at the chaos around her. "Can you believe this? Twenty-seven years in the library, and they stick me here because Elena's got the flu. As if I don't have enough to do with the senior research projects coming up."

  "That must be really frustrating," Lisa perches on the edge of the desk, channeling genuine sympathy into her voice. "The library's lucky to have you though - I don't know anyone else who could handle both jobs."

  "You always were a sweet talker," Mrs. Bucher's stern expression softens slightly. "Now, what can I do for you? Shouldn't you be in homeroom?"

  Lisa glances around, confirming they're alone before lowering her voice. "Actually... I was hoping you could help me with something. It's about Alex Winters? I haven't seen her in weeks, and I'm getting worried."

  "The Winters girl?" Mrs. Bucher's perfectly groomed eyebrows draw together. "That's private information, dear. You know I can't-"

  "Please," Lisa leans closer, letting real desperation seep into her voice. "After what happened with Hannah... I just need to know she's okay. She hasn't answered any messages, and with everything that's been happening..." She blinks rapidly, letting tears gather in her eyes. "I can't lose another friend, Mrs. Bucher. I just can't."

  Something in Mrs. Bucher's expression shifts as she studies Lisa's face. After what feels like an eternity, she glances toward the door before turning to her computer. "Well... I suppose there's no harm in checking her attendance record. Just this once."

  Lisa's heart pounds as Mrs. Bucher's fingers move across the keyboard. The ancient desktop whirs to life, its fan working overtime as windows flash across the screen. When Alex's student profile appears, Lisa leans forward instinctively, drinking in the details. The photo in the corner shows Alex's characteristic half-smile, dark eyeliner perfectly winged, an artistic rebellion against Riverside's preppy aesthetic.

  But before Lisa can read anything else, a red error message floods the screen: "ACCESS DENIED - STUDENT RECORD UNAVAILABLE. Please contact System Administrator."

  "That's strange," Mrs. Bucher frowns, adjusting her glasses. "I've never seen that before." She clicks around, trying different menus, but the error message remains stubbornly in place. "It's like her entire file has been... locked? Or deleted?"

  Ice spreads through Lisa's veins as the implications sink in. In all her years at Riverside, she's never heard of a student's records being completely inaccessible. Even when Rachel Martinez "moved to California" after that New Year's party, her transcript had still existed somewhere in the system.

  "Thank you for trying," Lisa manages, her mouth suddenly dry. "I should probably get to class."

  She's halfway to the door when Mrs. Bucher calls after her: "Lisa? Be careful, dear."

  The warning in the librarian's voice makes Lisa's skin prickle. She forces a smile, mumbling something about being late for AP Calc, but her mind is already racing. Because now she knows - whatever happened to Hannah, whatever secrets Alex had discovered, it went deeper than she'd imagined. Deep enough to make student records vanish. Deep enough to make people disappear.

  The question was: how much deeper could she dig before she disappeared too?

  Lisa's footsteps feel heavy as she makes her way toward the cafeteria, her mind a tangled mess of college applications, disappeared classmates, and Mrs. Bucher's cryptic warning. The weight of everything - the extra shifts at Chen's Garden, the looming Yale decision, Hannah's death, Alex's vanishing act - threatens to crush her beneath its mass.

  Thank god for Matthias. The thought floats through her mind like a life preserver in stormy waters. At least she has one person who feels real in this maze of masks and mirrors that Riverside has become.

  The cafeteria doors swing open with their familiar squeak, the buzz of teenage life washing over her like white noise. Her eyes scan the usual spots, searching for Matthias's familiar profile among the sea of designer outfits and calculated social positioning. When she finally spots him, her heart does a strange little stutter.

  Because there's Matthias - her sweet, brilliant boy who codes for fun and quotes Star Wars unironically - sitting next to Jake Woodland like they're old friends. Jake's gesturing animatedly about something, and Matthias is actually laughing - not his polite laugh, but the real one that crinkles the corners of his eyes. Susan and Justin are draped across each other nearby, while Jeff sprawls in his chair with characteristic ease.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "There's my girl!" Matthias's whole face lights up as she approaches, and for a moment, Lisa almost forgets about deleted student records and suspicious suicides. Almost.

  She leans down to kiss him, breathing in the familiar scent of coffee and clean laundry. His lips curve into a smile against hers, and she feels some of the tension leave her shoulders.

  "Get a room, you nerds," Jake calls out, but his tone carries none of the usual bite. "Some of us are trying to eat here."

  "Just because you're tragically single doesn't mean the rest of us can't enjoy some PDA," Matthias fires back with surprising confidence, and Jake actually laughs - a genuine sound that makes Lisa's head spin slightly. When did these two become friends?

  She slides into the seat beside Matthias, hyperaware of how surreal this feels - sitting at the popular table, surrounded by Riverside's elite like he belongs here. His hand finds her knee under the table, warm and steady, anchoring her to reality.

  "You okay?" he asks softly, his eyes searching her face with the kind of attention that usually decodes complex algorithms. "You seem... scattered."

  "I'm fine," Lisa manages, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. She hates keeping things from him, but how do you tell your boyfriend that you suspect your classmates of murder? That you might be next on their list?

  "Guys, I'm literally dying over here," Jeff groans dramatically, running his hands through his carefully disheveled hair. "This FIU wait is killing me. Like, how long does it take to decide if they want this perfect specimen of quarterback excellence?"

  "You'll get in," Jake says with the easy confidence of someone who's never doubted his own future. "Their QB room needs serious help, and you've got the arm for their system."

  "Plus," Susan adds, not looking up from her phone, "didn't your uncle play there? Legacy always helps."

  Lisa watches the conversation bounce around the table, feeling like she's observing everything through thick glass. These people - these perfectly polished, carefully calculated people - know something about what happened to Hannah. Maybe even helped make it happen. And here they sit, casually discussing college applications like they haven't destroyed lives.

  "Actually," Jake's voice cuts through her thoughts, "speaking of college, heard anything from Yale yet, Chen?"

  The question catches her off guard. Since when does Jake Woodland care about her college prospects? "Not yet," she manages, forcing casualness into her voice. "Should be any day now."

  "You'll get in," Jake says with that same easy confidence he'd used with Jeff. His eyes lock onto hers with uncomfortable intensity. "Smart girl like you? Yale would be lucky to have you."

  Something in his tone makes Lisa's skin prickle. Is it a threat? A warning? Or just Jake being... unexpectedly nice? These days, she can't tell the difference anymore.

  Matthias's hand tightens slightly on her knee, and she realizes she's gone tense. She forces her muscles to relax, summons a smile that hopefully doesn't look as plastic as it feels. "Thanks, Jake. That's... really nice of you to say."

  The conversation shifts to safer topics - highschool drama and football rankings - but Lisa's mind keeps circling back to that error message on Mrs. Bucher's computer. To Alex's vanished records and Hannah's convenient suicide. To the way Jake's watching her now, like he's trying to decide something important.

  She leans into Matthias's solid warmth, grateful for his steady presence even as guilt gnaws at her chest. Because she knows - with the kind of certainty that makes her stomach turn - that she can't tell him what she's discovered. Can't risk him becoming another disappeared student, another convenient tragedy in Riverside's carefully maintained facade.

  Some crosses, you have to bear alone.

  Susan's voice cuts through Lisa's dark thoughts like a knife through silk. "Oh my god, you guys won't believe this - Lauren Mitchell got her Harvard acceptance this morning. Her Instagram story is literally just her crying while holding her laptop."

  "Please," Justin scoffs, his arm draped casually across Susan's shoulders. "Like that's some huge accomplishment? Both her parents are legacy. Pretty sure she was admitted the day she was born."

  The words hit Lisa like tiny paper cuts, each one a reminder of the vast gulf between her world and theirs. She thinks of her dad, up at 4 AM every morning to prep the restaurant, his hands permanently scarred from hot woks and sharp knives. Her mom, who'd given up dreams of community college to help support the family. No legacy admissions in her future - just mountains of financial aid forms and prayer.

  "Hey Sue," Lisa finds herself asking, desperate to change the subject, "any word from Yale yet?"

  Susan's perfectly glossed lips curve into a knowing smile. "Not yet, but don't stress about it, sweetie. Daddy put in a good word with Executive Director Stevens - they play golf together at the club." She winks, like she's sharing some profound secret. "Trust me, you're covered."

  Before Lisa can process the implications of that statement - the casual way these people treat college admissions like some kind of social currency - a blur of motion catches her eye. Jake suddenly launches himself across the table with a warrior cry that would put Roman gladiators to shame.

  "BROOKS!" The sound echoes through the cafeteria as Jake tackles Nate to the ground in a tangle of designer denim and athletic grace. "I knew it! I fucking knew it!"

  "What's happening?" Lisa asks, but her question dies in her throat as she spots Amber gliding toward their table like some kind of academic goddess. The grey Stanford sweater hangs perfectly off one shoulder, making Lisa's thrift store cardigan feel even more inadequate by comparison. Nate, now wrestling Jake into a headlock, sports a matching one.

  "Oh. My. God." Susan's shriek could probably shatter windows. "You got in? Both of you?"

  Amber's smile is radiant - the kind of pure joy that makes Lisa momentarily forget all her suspicions about Hampton Beach and Hannah and disappeared students. "Got the letter yesterday," she confirms, barely maintaining her composure as Susan practically climbs over the table to embrace her. "Full ride for Brooks with the football scholarship."

  "The dynamic duo does it again!" Jake announces from his position on the floor, where Nate has him pinned. "Stanford won't know what hit them!"

  Lisa rises automatically, muscle memory from years of practicing the delicate social dance of Riverside High. "Congratulations," she offers, the word tasting strangely hollow in her mouth. Because how do you sincerely congratulate someone you suspect of murder? How do you smile and hug and play along when your dead friend's empty locker still holds dried flowers?

  But Amber's eyes meet hers with something that looks almost like genuine warmth. "Thanks, Lisa. Really." Her hand finds Lisa's arm, squeezing gently. "You'll be getting your Yale letter any day now. I can feel it."

  The gesture is so perfectly calculated - just the right mix of friendship and noblesse oblige - that Lisa almost believes it. Almost forgets that this is the same girl whose medical records got Hannah killed. Almost lets herself get swept up in the celebration of two perfect people and their perfect future together.

  "Stanford better watch out," Justin declares, raising his water bottle like it's filled with champagne. "The queen and king of Riverside are heading west!"

  As their table erupts in laughter and congratulations, Lisa catches Nate watching her. His expression is unreadable, those warm brown eyes that once made her heart flutter now carrying shadows she can't quite decode. When he finally speaks, his voice carries an edge that only she seems to notice.

  "Here's to fresh starts," he says, still holding her gaze. "To leaving the past where it belongs."

  The words send a chill down Lisa's spine. Because she knows what he really means: Some secrets should stay buried. Some questions shouldn't be asked. Some mysteries are better left unsolved.

  But as she watches Amber and Nate accept congratulations like benevolent royalty, Lisa makes a silent promise to Hannah's memory. She won't let them bury the truth along with her friend. No matter what it costs her.

  Even if it means burning her own future to expose theirs.