Book 1 - The Boy in the Yearbook: The Photograph - Chapter 8 - Elena Vale

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Clara didn't tell her father about the photograph that had appeared upstairs.

Not yet.

She couldn't.

There were already too many secrets sitting between them, and every answer he gave seemed to create another question.

Instead, she went back upstairs.

Her bedroom door was open.

The photograph was still on her desk.

YOU FOUND THE WRONG DOOR.

Clara stared at the words.

Then she turned the photograph over.

Nothing.

No date.

No signature.

No clue.

Only a faint mark in the corner.

A silver V.

She recognized it immediately.

Vale.

Elena.

Clara grabbed her phone.

Clara: We need to talk.

Elena replied almost instantly.

Elena: About what?

Clara took a picture of the photograph.

Clara: Your grandmother.

There was a long pause.

Then:

Elena: Where are you?

They met the next morning in the small courtyard behind the library.

The rain had stopped, but the stones were still wet.

Elena stood beneath an old tree, arms folded tightly across her chest.

She looked nervous.

Clara approached.

Clara: "You know something about Elliot."

Elena: "I know what my grandmother told me."

Clara: "That's not the same thing."

Elena looked away.

Elena: "Maybe it is."

Clara pulled out the photograph.

Elena immediately recognized the silver V.

Her expression changed.

Elena: "Where did you get that?"

Clara: "It appeared in my bedroom."

Elena took a step backward.

Elena: "That's impossible."

Clara: "Apparently impossible things keep happening."

Elena stared at the photograph.

Elena: "My grandmother had this symbol."

Clara: "The silver V?"

Elena: "Yes."

She hesitated.

Elena: "She called it the Vale mark."

Clara: "What did it mean?"

Elena shook her head.

Elena: "I never knew."

Clara studied her.

Clara: "You're holding something back."

Elena: "I'm trying to remember."

Clara: "Remember what?"

Elena looked toward the school.

Elena: "A story."

That afternoon, Elena invited Clara to her grandmother's old house.

The house stood on a quiet street several miles from Blackwood Academy.

It was smaller than Clara expected.

White siding.

Dark shutters.

A garden that had grown wild around the edges.

Elena unlocked the front door.

Elena: "Nobody comes here anymore."

Clara: "Why keep it?"

Elena: "My mother couldn't sell it."

Clara: "Why?"

Elena looked at her.

Elena: "She said my grandmother wouldn't have wanted it."

Inside, the house smelled like old books and lavender.

Photographs covered the walls.

Elena led Clara down a narrow hallway.

They stopped in front of a portrait.

An elderly woman sat in a chair.

Her eyes were sharp.

Her expression was serious.

Around her neck hung a silver pendant.

The same one Professor Ashcroft wore.

Clara stared.

Clara: "That's it."

Elena: "The pendant?"

Clara: "Professor Ashcroft has one exactly like it."

Elena nodded.

Elena: "My grandmother and Professor Ashcroft were friends."

Clara: "Friends?"

Elena: "That's what she told me."

Clara looked at the portrait again.

Clara: "But they were both at Blackwood Academy in 1987."

Elena nodded.

Elena: "Yes."

Clara: "And Elliot knew both of them."

Elena: "Yes."

Clara turned.

Clara: "Then why did your grandmother tell you not to answer me if I asked about him?"

Elena looked down.

Elena: "Because she knew you would eventually ask."

Clara's stomach tightened.

Clara: "How?"

Elena walked toward an old cabinet.

She opened the bottom drawer.

Inside was a small wooden box.

She lifted it out.

Elena: "She left this for me."

Clara stared.

Clara: "What's inside?"

Elena: "I don't know."

Clara: "You never opened it?"

Elena: "I tried."

She handed Clara the box.

There was a lock on the front.

A small brass keyhole.

Clara reached into her pocket.

Then stopped.

The key was gone.

She had lost it.

Or someone had taken it.

Elena noticed her expression.

Elena: "What?"

Clara: "Nothing."

She examined the lock.

Then something caught her attention.

A tiny symbol was carved beneath it.

A raven.

Blackwood Academy.

Clara looked at Elena.

Clara: "Your grandmother kept a Blackwood key."

Elena: "Apparently."

Clara searched the room.

Clara: "There has to be another key."

Elena shook her head.

Elena: "I've looked everywhere."

Clara turned toward the portrait.

Something about it bothered her.

She stepped closer.

The frame was slightly crooked.

She touched it.

It moved.

Behind it was a narrow compartment.

Elena gasped.

Elena: "I've never seen that."

Clara reached inside.

Her fingers touched metal.

She pulled out a small brass key.

The same shape as the one that had appeared at the school.

Elena: "How did you know?"

Clara: "I didn't."

She placed the key into the box.

It fit perfectly.

The lock clicked.

Inside was a bundle of letters tied with black ribbon.

And a photograph.

Clara picked it up.

Her hands began to tremble.

Elliot.

Evelyn.

Vivian.

Clara's father.

Adrian's father.

And the missing sixth person.

Except this time, the sixth person wasn't scratched out.

Clara stared at the face.

She knew him.

Or at least—

she knew his family.

It was the former headmaster of Blackwood Academy.

Clara: "Oh my God."

Elena leaned over her shoulder.

Elena: "Who is that?"

Clara: "Headmaster William Hawthorne."

Elena frowned.

Elena: "The headmaster who died in 1988?"

Clara nodded.

Clara: "Yes."

There were six people in the photograph.

Six people who knew what happened to Elliot.

Six people connected to the school.

And one of them was the headmaster.

Elena picked up one of the letters.

The envelope was addressed to Vivian Vale.

She opened it carefully.

The handwriting was old.

Elena: "It's from Elliot."

Clara looked at her.

Clara: "Read it."

Elena unfolded the letter.

Her voice trembled as she began.

Elena: "Vivian, if you're reading this, then I was right."

She stopped.

Clara's heart raced.

Elena: "What?"

Elena continued.

Elena: "They are lying about what happened in the east wing. William knows. Evelyn knows. Charles knows. James knows."

Clara froze.

Charles Blackwood.

Her father.

James Blackwood.

Adrian's father.

Elena looked up.

Elena: "There are more."

She continued.

Elena: "I found the original records. They weren't supposed to exist."

Clara leaned closer.

Elena: "The names were changed. The photographs were replaced. And someone has been using the yearbook to communicate with me."

Clara's heart stopped.

Clara: "The yearbook?"

Elena nodded.

She kept reading.

Elena: "If anything happens to me, don't trust the photograph."

Silence.

Then the final line.

Elena: "Because the boy in the picture isn't the one you're looking for."

Clara stared at the page.

Clara: "What does that mean?"

Elena slowly lowered the letter.

Elena: "I don't know."

A floorboard creaked behind them.

They both turned.

Nobody was there.

Then they heard a sound from the front door.

Three knocks.

Elena's face went pale.

Clara: "Is someone here?"

Elena whispered:

Elena: "No."

Clara: "How do you know?"

Elena: "Because my grandmother had a rule."

Another three knocks.

Clara: "What rule?"

Elena stared at the door.

Elena: "If someone knocks three times..."

She swallowed.

Elena: "...you don't open it."

The knocking stopped.

Clara's phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

She looked down.

One new message.

YOU'RE ASKING THE WRONG QUESTIONS.

Then another.

ASK ELENA WHAT HER GRANDMOTHER DID WITH THE SIXTH NAME.

Clara looked at Elena.

Elena's face had gone completely white.

Clara: "You know the sixth name."

Elena shook her head.

Elena: "No."

Clara: "Elena."

Elena: "I don't."

Clara held up the phone.

Clara: "Then why are you scared?"

Elena stared at the message.

Her eyes filled with tears.

Elena: "Because I remember something."

Clara: "What?"

Elena looked toward the portrait of her grandmother.

Elena: "When I was little, she used to tell me there were six people in the photograph."

Clara waited.

Elena: "But she never counted Elliot."

Clara's blood ran cold.

Clara: "What?"

Elena whispered:

Elena: "She said there were six people who knew the truth..."

She looked at the photograph.

Elena: "...and Elliot wasn't one of them."

The front door opened.

Neither of them had touched it.

Cold air swept through the hallway.

The photograph slipped from Clara's hand.

It landed face-up.

For the first time, the sixth person's face was completely visible.

And Clara finally understood why his name had been erased.

Because beneath his photograph was a name she knew.

A name that belonged to someone who was still alive.

Evelyn Ashcroft.

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