With her fingers still wrapped around the heart-shaped necklace, Evette pulls her laptop onto her lap and flips it open. The screen lights up, and a new email waits at the top of her inbox, from Mr. Hutchison, her College Etiquette instructor.
She clicks it, already half-distracted, but the subject line grabs her attention:
"Alumni Reflection Assignment
Her eyes skim the body of the message.
"Dear students,As discussed in class, your Alumni Reflection assignment is due on December 1st. You'll choose two past students from the school's archives—one whose legacy you admire and one whose choices you wouldn't want to follow. Provide clear reasoning for both. The purpose is to reflect on the kind of graduate you want to be.You have the full month of November. Use it wisely."
Evette leans back in her chair, the necklace cool against her palm.
Two alumni. One to look up to. One to avoid becoming.
Her eyes flick over to the closed yearbook beside her, where the name Emerson Holloway lingers in her thoughts like a shadow. That quote, "Whatever you do, don't be like me"—suddenly feels less like a dramatic senior prank and more like… something real.
Her stomach twists.
She wasn't planning to pick him. But now? It's like his name is daring her to.
Evette exhales, pulling the yearbook closer and flipping it open again. She lets her eyes wander over the pages, names and faces blurring together. She doesn't stop on Emerson this time. Not yet. Instead, she scans the graduates with sharp titles under their names, valedictorians, club presidents, future lawyers.
Then she spots it. A name she had skimmed over earlier, something about it now pulling her in.
Adrina Bianchi.
A neat photo stares back at her—sharp eyes, confident smile, shoulders squared like she's already ready to take on the world. Below it, her quote reads: "Justice isn't blind. It just sees clearly in the end."
Evette leans in. The notes beside the photo mention that Adrina went on to become one of the youngest federal judges in the state, known for sentencing high-profile criminals and reshaping courtroom ethics.
Evette taps the edge of the page thoughtfully.
Adrina Bianchi. A woman who stood for something. Who made people listen. Who didn't flinch when things got hard.
She nods slowly to herself. That's someone she could write about. Someone she could say she wants to be like.
But just as she reaches for her pen to jot the name down, her eyes flicker—just for a second—back to the edge of the page where Emerson Holloway's face still peeks from the opposite side.
She quickly closes the book.
No. Not him. Not yet.
Evette flips another page, her eyes glazing over the endless rows of smiling seniors. She doesn't want to overthink it. The assignment is just a grade. Nothing more.
Eventually, she lands on a name she doesn't recognize at all—Adam Miller.
No fancy quote. No bold accomplishments. Just a plain photo of a guy with slouched shoulders and a half-smile that looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.
The notes say he graduated, barely, then drifted between part-time jobs and never really settled on anything. There's no scandal, no fame—just quiet mediocrity.
Evette shrugs.
He'll do.
She scribbles both names down:Adrina Bianchi and Adam Miller
But as she closes the yearbook and rests her hand over the cover, her thoughts flicker back to Emerson Holloway.
That quote still lingers in her head like a whisper:"Whatever you do, don't be like me."
She doesn't write his name. Not yet. But something about him won't let go.
She presses the yearbook against her chest and mutters to herself, almost like a promise.
"I won't forget you."
And if she's lucky, really lucky, she'll find out who he really was.
Evette lays down on her bed after putting the yearbook on her desk. It's only 9 p.m., but she doesn't feel like staying awake anymore. Her eyelids feel heavy, and the quiet of her room makes it hard to fight the pull of sleep. She closes her eyes, just for a moment, and next thing she knows, the morning light is creeping through the blinds.
She blinks awake. Her phone reads 8:02 a.m. She groans, stretching her arms out above her head.
She needs coffee. And she needs to study. No time to waste.
She slides out of bed and checks her clothes in the mirror. The ones she wore yesterday, wrinkled from sleeping in them, definitely aren't going to cut it. With a sigh, she heads to her dresser, pulling out a pair of jeans and a plain pink hoodie. The same one she wore when she first arrived at West Gate.
It feels like a lifetime ago, though it's only been a few months
She changes quickly, throwing on the hoodie, the soft fabric is comforting, like a small piece of home. She grabs her bag, heads out of her room, and makes her way downstairs, already thinking about the caffeine boost she'll get from the cafeteria.
Evette walks toward the cafeteria, the early morning air cool against her skin. She's not really in the mood for people, but she knows she needs the caffeine if she's going to get through the day.
When she reaches the door, she spots Evan by the counter, sipping on a coffee and scanning the room. He looks up as she approaches, and a small grin spreads across his face.
"You look grumpy," he says, his voice light.
Evette rolls her eyes, letting out a dramatic sigh. "Well, I am. Didn't study enough. So now I'm paying for it."
Evan chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Alright, I'll leave you to it then. Don't wanna get caught in your line of fire." He takes a step back, raising his hands in mock surrender.
Evette gives him a playful side-eye before heading toward the coffee counter. "Smart choice," she mutters, but there's a soft smile tugging at her lips despite her frustration.