Page 141 of Not Quite Dead Yet

But that wasn’t the only blank page.

Four years later, there was another gap, another missing photo.Me and Billy testing out our new bikes 2013.Jet ran her finger over the empty space, closing her eyes to bring the scene to life.

‘What are you doing?’ Billy interrupted. ‘Why aren’t you helping?’

Jet straightened up, turned the album to face him. ‘Looks like your mom didn’t leaveeverythingbehind. Took the important stuff,’ she repeated his words.

Billy hesitated, eyes lighting up as they flicked over the empty page.

‘Probably fell out,’ he muttered, blinking, the light gone again. He took the album from her, dropped it on the floor, didn’t want to know.

‘Oh, look,’ he said instead, sliding out the box at the bottom of one of the piles, undoing the tape. ‘This looks like work stuff. Math textbooks.’ He pulled some out, grunting at the weight of them. ‘Some papers.’ He dug his hand through. ‘Ah. Here’s one of her work planners.’ He passed it over to Jet. ‘That’s from 2015. The year she left.’

Jet turned the little ring-bound notebook around in her hands, opened the front cover.Beth Finneywas scribbled inside, big fancy writing, theylooping over to underline the rest of her name. Jet skipped a few more pages, a little hard to read in this light. Each date had its own page, even the weekends, her scribbles in red or black pen. Notes, reminders, to-do lists with her own drawn checkboxes, uneven little squares withXs that didn’t stay within the lines. Most were checked off.

Jet read a few.

January 15

Math leadership team meeting at 11.

Order more graph paper.

Extra credit marking.

Speak to Taylor Elliott after class.

Skipped some more pages.

March 7

Email Mr Elliott.

Order Billy’s birthday present.

That one was checked off. Jet wondered what Billy’s mom had bought him that year, the year he would have turned eighteen, his last ever present from her.

The knot in her gut pulled tighter.

She sniffed, snapped the notebook shut.

‘2008?’ she asked.

‘I’m looking,’ Billy grunted, his head almost inside the box. ‘That’s 2013. 2011.’ He laid them on the floor, carefully, like his mom might need them again someday. ‘Ah-ha. No, that’s 2006, sorry.’ He buried deeper. ‘2010. Oh. Here it is – 2008.’

He reemerged with it clutched between his hands, sitting back on his knees.

‘May thirtieth,’ Jet said. ‘Find Friday May thirtieth. That’s when Emily tried to speak to her. She might have written something down. Your mom wrote things down.’

Jet moved closer, leaning over Billy’s shoulder as he turned the pages, flicked halfway through the book.June.Too far. Flicked back.

‘Here it is,’ he said, running his finger over his mom’s writing. ‘May thirtieth.Go over practice tests for AP. Lunch with Sarah. Pick Billy up from practice at 4.’ Billy swallowed, glanced up at her. ‘Sorry Jet. There’s nothing here about Emily.’

‘You sure?’ She deflated, resting her arm on his shoulder.

‘Yeah.’ Billy flicked the page, checking the day before and the one after. ‘Nothing about Emi– Wait.’

He settled on the day after, flattened the page.

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