"I can't believe you passed out while we were kissing," Cedric said as he drove to his house.

I smiled wanly. Head aching, I could only be grateful that I hadn't gotten a bloody nose while I was kissing Cedric and passing out. "I'm just tired, I guess. Midnight is way past my bedtime."

Cedric poked me in the ribs. "We gotta get you up to speed. In college, nobody goes to bed before two a.m."

"Seriously?" I grimaced. "That sounds awful."

"Just make sure you don't sign up for any eight a.m. classes, that's all. That's what Maggie told me. Well, her precise words were, eight a.m. classes are the devil. But you know. Same thing."

I hummed my agreement. I didn't want to think about college. College meant Cedric and I wouldn't see each other every day. I was hoping he'd decide to go to UCLA and I'd get into Otis and we'd at least be in the same city. It was a selfish hope, though, now that I knew about Chris and Brent. Chris was ready to support Brent in anything, and I was wanting Cedric to not get into Berkeley so he could be nearby.

"I can't even deal with the fact that we're graduating in five months," I mumbled. I wasn't lying – I really was sleepy.

"You'll deal with it. Especially when I take you to prom. My promposal is gonna be off the hook."

I opened one eye. "Off the hook?"

"What? I'm allowed to use modern slang."

"Sure..."

At Cedric's house, we both got out and met at the front of the car, between the headlights so that the twin beams of light embraced us. The cool night air buzzed with cicadas, and I shivered. Cedric rubbed my arms, then pulled me to his chest. "I love you," he said.

The words always made me smile. I turned and kissed him. "I love you too."

"Be careful driving home. Text me so I know you're safe."

"Okay, Dad."

"Mmm, I like it when you call me daddy."

I laughed, then kissed him again before driving off.

Despite my sleepiness, I lay awake in the dark thinking about Brent. Brent was definitely sick. I knew it as surely as Chris knew it. I wasn't sure why Chris had been so focused on Brent wearing makeup. In my memories, Brent seemed to have perfect, tanned California skin. Aside from being a little thin, he looked healthy. I rolled over and punched my pillow. I wished I could talk to Cedric about what I remembered. He must have known I'd had a memory, especially after what happened at that tattoo shop in LA. But he'd acted like I had passed out from drinking too much, when I hadn't had a single alcoholic beverage.

I vowed to stop thinking about the lives of these other people. It was a new year, a new start. We were living our story and we didn't need to know what happened to these people. They were all dead. That was it.

***

I managed to keep that vow through most of January, and into February. As a photographer, I was tapped by the yearbook committee to take candids, and I spent a lot more time hanging around basketball games and taking photos of events I didn't care about. I was photographing the winter formal, which was doubling as a fundraiser for the Australian bushfires, when Eli started talking about a plague of locusts.

"Like, a biblical plague?" I asked, half paying attention as I stepped away from the couple I'd just photographed, writing their names in my notebook for the caption.

"Yes! There's already been floods, those were in South America somewhere—"

"Brazil," I said.

"Yes, and a volcano erupted somewhere—"

"Wait." I finally focused on Eli. "Are you saying you think the biblical plagues are happening right now?"

Eli gestured wide. The only reason he was here talking to me was because his GOTM, Leigh, had seen him flirting with another girl and tossed a cup of water at him. "Wake up, Jimmy Dean! It's 2020. Anything is possible! Did you hear that they managed to recreate the voice of some three thousand-year-old pharaoh? I mean, they may as well have invited the plagues to come!"

I exhaled and studied him.

"Jojo, do not give me that look. No. I know you are about to unleash the voice of reason and I do not--"

"Leigh is watching you," I said slowly. "Are you trying to look like you're outraged but really don't care one way or the other if she's mad?"

Eli pressed his finger to his lips, one hand on his hip. "Look, James, not everything has to do with a girl, okay?"

"Sure, fine. So what other plagues are happening? You said floods, fires, locusts, what else?" I wandered toward the dance floor to find someone else to photograph. A blond girl in a retro pink dress that Cedric would love was dancing with a skinny dude with glasses. I approached them, holding up my camera. "Hi, do you guys want a picture for the yearbook?"

Behind me, Eli said, "Well, there's this flu thing happening in China right now—"

A loud voice interrupted him. "I hope you aren't complaining to your friend about me." Eli and I both turn to see Leigh looking furious.

"Looks like your acting worked," I said to Eli.

"I wasn't acting!" Eli protested. "I am truly concerned!"

"Concerned about what?" Leigh demanded.

"About you, baby," Eli said smoothly, winking at me as he draped his arm around Leigh's shoulders. She gave him a suspicious look. "I was so upset that you'd think I was flirting with anyone else, not when the only girl I want is you..."

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the couple. "So, how about that photo?"

The jokes about the plagues were all online, everywhere. Apparently there had been a plague in 1820 and in 1920, which meant we were due for one now in 2020. I didn't spend much time online, so I heard all these jokes secondhand from Eli, Jax, and Marlo.

My head was elsewhere. Specifically, Valentine's Day. I had searched everywhere online for the perfect gift for Cedric before realizing online wasn't the best place to find something for someone who hated technology as much as I did. On Wednesday, two days before Valentine's, I texted Cedric and told him I had to stay after school for a group project, and headed down to the antiques co-op where we met. It was risky; Cedric could decide to go there after school too, but I figured the lie would be a cute story if that was the case. Then again, Cedric and I had been going further and further afield in our search for something new that was also old, and we hadn't gone down to our old haunt in months.

The place smelled the same. At the risk of looking weird, I stopped just inside the doorway to take a deep breath. "Long time no see," greeted Mr. Valdez. "I thought you and your friend had given up on me."

"No way," I said, grinning.

I headed over to the music section. I'd thought I might find the Yazoo record with our song on it. There were copies available online, but something about buying online meant less. If the record was here, it would mean more. Maybe it could have actually been Brent or Chris's album.

But I had no luck. I even scoured the cassettes, knowing that was Cedric's preferred medium. After that, I prowled the aisles, desperately seeking some inspiration. Given how much time Cedric and I spent together, how well we knew each other after four and a half months, I should have been able to find something. For Christmas I had given Cedric a photograph that had been taken by another yearbook staffer from the Homecoming Dance. She'd caught us in a moment where we were looking at each other and laughing at something as we danced. Of course she was using a digital camera, but I used Photoshop at the computer lab to make it look vintage.

As if being pulled by a magnet, I found myself at the back of the store, standing in front of the glass case that held Theodore Shaw's camera.

Frustrated, I turned around and glared at the shelves of books there. Then I put out my hand, closed my eyes, and touched the book spines. Would I feel a connection, or was this all some great coincidence? I ran my fingers along one shelf, then another. When I wanted to stop, I forced myself to keep going. I didn't know how to trust my intuition, until I felt that tug. My hand zoomed back and pulled a book out, a slim volume. When I opened my eyes, I saw the title: The Woman of Evil, by Nicholas Carter.

I haven't yet reached the part where she's evil, I'm presuming she murders someone in cold blood.

Henry's voice.

The old paperback had grown soft with age, the colors on the cover illustration muted. When I opened the book, I saw the damning evidence: on the inside front cover, I found that Henry had written her name. H. Walters.

It was a sign. It meant something. I wanted to run and buy the book immediately. But then I remembered the argument Cedric and I had back on Halloween. I still hadn't really told him that he had been Henrietta. To give him Henry's book wouldn't mean anything to him. Maybe he would feel that connection, too, my mind argued. Or maybe he would get mad.

I couldn't let the book go, but I scoured the rest of the store. I avoided the section where I'd found all of Theodore's photographs. Eventually I landed at the section of vintage clothing, which I'd never really looked at, because of Mom's rule.

There was plenty to choose from that would fit Cedric's aesthetic. I found a shirt with a godawful abstract pattern on it that I was sure he would love, and a neon blue mesh t-shirt that would get back at him for the crop top incident. Relieved that I'd found the perfect gift, I took my three items up to the cash register.

"I have something for you," Mr. Valdez said as he carefully folded the clothing and placed them into a bag. He put the book into a smaller plastic bag and slid it on top of the clothes, then bent down and dug around under the counter. "Now where did I put it?"

I checked my phone, then decided to text Cedric. There was still time for him to come over before dinner.

"Ah, here we go. My daughter, she likes to 'clean' when she's working here. And I didn't know your name." He stood up, arched his back, then handed me a postcard.

It was old, and showed a black and white photograph of the Statue of Liberty. I couldn't think of a reason why Mr. Valdez would have saved this for me, until I turned the card over and saw the name written in the address line.

"Henrietta," I whispered.

"See?" Mr. Valdez pointed at the signature at the bottom, underneath a cramped paragraph of cursive text in faded ink. "It's from Theodore Shaw. The one with the cameras."

Of course, Mr. Valdez knew I'd been interested in Theodore. Not Henrietta. I babbled, trying to cover up what would have made no sense to Mr. Valdez. "Wow. This is awesome. Where did you find it?"

He told me some story about the postcards he liked to keep because of the messages on them, how they needed someone to keep those stories.

I couldn't stop looking at Henrietta's name, written as Mrs. Henrietta Shaw. I tucked the postcard into the book and managed not to look at either the whole way home. Once in my room, however, I put the items on my desk and marveled at them, these actual pieces of people I used to be and used to know. I had quite a collection now. I'd put the photographs, including the framed one of Henrietta, in an old cigar box, after the fight with Cedric on Halloween, and I hadn't thought much about it. I'd replaced that photo with the one I'd taken of Cedric at the Japanese Tea Garden, in a different frame. When Cedric had seen that, he'd turned to me with a smile and kissed me, hard, then he had shown his appreciation in other ways.

The text of the postcard was cramped and hard to read.

Dearest Henry,

I made it to New York and didn't even get to see the Statue of Liberty, can you believe it? They ship us out tomorrow morning, and by day's end I'll be on the shores of Paris. I never thought it would go this far. There were troops left in California to deal with the Mexican border, I'd hoped I'd get to stay, so that even if I died at war I might get to see you again, or perhaps I could have been "injured" and you could have cared for me... Alas, I shall do my best not to die and I'll send a letter as soon as I'm able. Keep up the good fight on our home front.

Much love, Theo

The postmark was dated April of 1917, which meant this was World War I. Finally, some clue about what happened to Theodore and Henrietta after the earthquake!

My fingers were pulling up Cedric's contact on my phone and hitting the call button before I really thought about what I was doing.

"Hey, babe," Cedric purred when he answered.

"Can you come over? I have to show you something."

Cedric chuckled. "You show me yours, I'll show you mine."

"Not like that," I said. After a pause, "Well, maybe that too."

"I'll be right over."

He hung up without saying good-bye, and I knew he'd be here in less than fifteen minutes. I stashed his gift in my closet and read the postcard a few more times before I heard the door open and close downstairs – we had long ago stopped knocking at each other's houses – and he kicked off his shoes before he headed up and came through my door.

"Look at these!" I said, gesturing to the book and the postcard. "This is a postcard from Theodore to Henrietta – they definitely got married! And this was her book! The one she was reading in the Japanese Tea Garden on their first date! It even has her name inside. See?"

I held it up, only to see how Cedric was looking down at all of the other Theodore and Henrietta stuff I had collected that I had taken out and arranged on my desk.

"Um, I thought you were doing a group project," Cedric said.

My face froze, but only for a moment. "I lied. I'm sorry," I said, putting down the book so I could wrap my arms around him. "It was for a good reason! I went to the co-op to find you a Valentine's present. And I did. But then I also found this other stuff."

Cedric was stiff against me. "Okaaay." His voice trailed up at the end, as if he expected more of an explanation.

I released him and shuffled to the desk, gathering all the photographs together. "Most of this other stuff is old, I found it way back in September. Anyway, I found the book totally by accident, it was literally a random book I took off a shelf. And Mr. Valdez gave me the photograph, because he remembered how I was interested in Theodore Shaw. I couldn't believe he remembered, it's been so long since we went there."

I paused in my rambling to glance over at Cedric. His face still had a strained look.

"What?" I asked him, dropping the photographs into the cigar box.

"Sorry," he said. "I guess I didn't realize you were still interested in all this stuff. You haven't talked about it in forever."

"I know. I had kind of forgotten about it, but then when I went to the co-op... it's like this stuff just finds me, you know?"

I could tell that he didn't know. I could tell he thought I was obsessed or something.

"I mean, isn't it kind of cool, though?" I picked up the postcard. "Like, to find out they lived through the San Francisco earthquake, and then got married, and this says he's shipping off to fight in World War One. It's like history coming to life."

"Sure." Cedric turned away and went to sit on my bed. Leaning back on his hands, he waited. "It's pretty cool. I just..." He looked down. "I guess I'm kinda hurt that you lied to me, that's all."

"I was looking for a present for you," I protested.

His voice was sharp. "You could have just told me that. I mean, you lied about where you were going and apparently you've been collecting all this stuff and never talked to me about it."

I threw up my hands. "It wasn't like that. I could tell you weren't interested, and I haven't really been collecting this whole time--"

"James." Cedric looked at me with the saddest eyes. "James, do you like me for me, or because you think I'm somehow connected to all this?"

My mouth wouldn't close. I didn't know what to say. The answer was yes, for both questions, but I knew he didn't want it to be. I tried to breathe, to close my mouth at the very least, but then I realized the reason I couldn't breathe was because I was crying. All I could do was gasp, watching his face blur, until I could finally choke out the words, "I love you."

His arms around me felt like forgiveness, but what we did after that felt a little bit like lying.