By Monday, the locker mystery had already taken over most of Ethan's thoughts—and a small but dedicated section of Gus's planner.
"Recon," Gus whispered as they passed near the east wing before second period.
"Is it still recon if nothing's changed?" Ethan asked.
"Yes," Gus said, flipping open his notes. "That's literally the point."
Jane had skipped homeroom, which was rare enough to make Cher suspicious. When Ethan sat down at lunch and Jane still hadn't shown, Cher just raised one eyebrow and said, "Either she's on a mission or she's been replaced by a slightly less cool clone."
"Option one," Maya said without looking up from her apple slices. "She asked me for double-sided tape last night and told me not to ask why."
"I never ask," Gus said.
"You once asked me how many bobby pins I use on average," Cher replied.
Gus looked vaguely betrayed. "That was for science."
Ten minutes later, Jane appeared at the edge of the table with her backpack slung across one shoulder and a look on her face that Ethan was starting to learn meant she found something.
She didn't sit down. She just opened her palm and dropped something square and silver onto the table.
A key.
Maya blinked. "That's—"
"From the AV office," Jane said, voice low. "Turns out the cabinet key is the same brand they use on a few of the older lockers. Including some in the east wing."
"You tested it?" Ethan asked.
"I wanted us all there," Jane replied. "But I did check the lock size. It's a match."
For a second, nobody said anything. Then Shawn grinned like a kid unwrapping fireworks. "I love Mondays."
After school, the six of them slipped out through the side doors and circled back to the east wing. The hallway was quiet again—almost too quiet for a school known for spontaneous trumpet practice and hallway tag.
Ethan ran a hand through his hair and exhaled as they stopped in front of the unnumbered panel.
"Alright," Jane said, crouching down. She slid the key into a tiny slit near the bottom hinge, one Ethan hadn't even noticed before.
It turned.
Not with a dramatic click—more of a subtle shift, like something old finally giving up a secret.
The door didn't swing open, though.
Instead, the seam between 326 and 328 loosened, and Jane pried the panel back a half-inch with her fingertips. It didn't open like a normal locker. There were no vents, no lock bar, no hooks or shelves inside.
Just a small, square cavity. Maybe a foot deep, maybe less. Empty—except for a folded sheet of paper at the very back.
Ethan leaned in. "That's it?"
Jane reached in, unfolded it carefully, and held it up to the light.
It was a page from an old yearbook.
Specifically, a black-and-white photo of a kid sitting in front of what looked like... this exact locker row. In big block handwriting across the bottom was a name: "DAVID R. – MISSING BUT NOT FORGOTTEN."
The air went still.
Maya took the paper from Jane and studied it. "This photo... it looks at least ten years old. Maybe longer."
Gus turned pale. "Why would someone leave a yearbook page in a hidden locker?"
Shawn leaned over Maya's shoulder. "More importantly, why is there a locker in this school that doesn't officially exist and holds a shrine to a missing kid?"
Cher stepped back. "I was on board for quirky locker jokes. I didn't sign up for dateline mystery vibes."
Ethan took the paper back and looked closer. The photo was grainy, but something about the expression on the kid's face—blank, maybe even scared—itched at the back of his brain.
"Guys," he said slowly. "This isn't a joke."
"I don't think it ever was," Jane said. "And I don't think it's over, either."
Maya touched his arm gently. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Ethan replied. But it wasn't entirely true. He'd signed up for a mystery, sure. But he'd thought it would end in a broken vent or a lost report card. Not this. Not someone forgotten.
"I think we should take this to the office," Cher said.
Jane shook her head. "If they knew about it, they'd have removed it when the new lockers came in."
"We don't even know what happened to him," Gus added. "He might've moved. Dropped out."
"Still weird to leave this," Maya said. "Tucked away like that."
Shawn tilted his head. "What if someone put it there... recently?"
The thought chilled Ethan more than he expected. He looked down the hallway again, half-expecting someone to be watching.
But there was only silence.
"What do we do?" Maya asked, her voice quiet now.
Ethan looked at the paper again.
DAVID R. – MISSING BUT NOT FORGOTTEN.
"I think we need to find out who he was," Ethan said. "And why someone wanted him remembered like this."
Jane nodded. "I'll check old yearbooks in the library tomorrow."
"I'll ask my mom," Maya said. "She's worked here since before I was born. She might remember something."
"I'll see if Alex knows any old school gossip," Ethan added. "She's basically a walking archive."
Shawn raised a hand. "And I'll volunteer to handle snacks again. It's my strength."
"Noted," Gus muttered.
They closed the locker carefully—Jane turning the key back and gently pressing the panel flush with the rest. You'd never know it was there. Never know there was a name, a face, a question waiting behind that gray metal.
As they walked out of the building, Ethan felt the weight of it in his backpack—the printed map and the yearbook page. Two pieces of something bigger.
He thought again of Lily. Of Mitchell and Cam. Of what it meant to be part of someone's story—and what it meant when someone got erased from one.
He didn't know who David R. was.
But he wasn't going to be forgotten again.
Not while Ethan was here.