OMG, A CUL8R Time Travel Mystery by Bob Kat

be 1966.”
    Austin and Kelly stared at Scott.  “How do you know all that stuff?” Austin asked incredulously.
    Scott didn’t appear to hear the question.  He was deep in thought and trying to mull through the mystery.  “If we could get a whole name, we could look it up on the internet.” Suddenly, his expression brightened.  “1966, South Beach High? Kelly, weren’t there some old yearbooks in your garage?  Your grandmother would have been about that age.”
    “This is sick,” Austin said with growing excitement. Even he was beginning to buy into the possibility that they had been talking to a dead girl.
    Like ants to sugar Scott and Austin followed Kelly as they paraded out of Scott’s lab, down the drive, across Aunt Jane’s grass and to the garage doors.  Her aunt had given her the combination to the keypad outside, and she punched in the code.  They waited anxiously as the door slowly rose in front of them.
    Scott walked straight to the exact row and box holding the South Beach High School yearbooks.  “It’s the third one from the top in that stack.”
    “Mind like a steel trap, ” Austin muttered, but he was clearly impressed with his friend.
    Austin ignored his sore muscles as he removed the top two boxes and set them aside.  He picked up the third box and placed it on the floor where Kelly had made a space.  They all three crowded around as Kelly opened the lid off the storage box.
    “196 5 . . . 1966 . . . here it is, 1967.”  She handed one of the earlier ones to Austin and the other one to Scott, and she took the one from 1967.  They unfolded three lawn chairs, sat down and started the tedious task of looking through every class for someone named Wendy.
    “I found her,” Kelly exclaimed.  “Look, here’s a whole page in memoriam to a Wendy Summers.”
    Austin and Scott leaned over to see the page.
    “It doesn’t say why she died,” Scott noted.
    “She was hot,” Austin said.  Kelly and Scott frowned at him.  He picked up his yearbook and started looking for her in it.
    K elly flipped to the appendix in the back of the book and looked down the columns of names for Wendy Summers. “She was pretty active in school.  She’s on five other pages.”  Kelly searched for the pages listed.  “Cheerleader.”  A couple pages forward.  “Homecoming queen.” Kelly found the third page. “President of the drama club.”  She found the fourth page. “Debate team.”  Kelly leafed through to where Wendy’s senior picture was. “And her senior picture.”
    “She was on the homecoming court when she was a sophomore,” Scott said as he pointed to a picture of a smiling young woman being presented with a bouquet on the football field at half time .
    “ She was junior prom queen in May, 1966,” Austin said.  “That means she died in the fall of her senior year.”
    Kelly had turned back to the memoriam page and read aloud, “ In Memoriam, Wendy Summers, 1949 to 1966.  We will never forget her life and the joy she brought to all of us every day.  She will remain in our thoughts and prayers forever .”
    They sa t in silence.  The warm South Florida sun now angled into the garage, but they didn’t notice.  They were all lost in their own thoughts.
    “Don’t you wonder why she d ied so young?  What happened?  Why did she keep asking for help and saying she didn’t do it?  What didn’t she do?”  Kelly asked.
    “Let’s go back to my house and get on -line and see if we can find any other information.  Can we take the books with us?” Scott asked.
    “I’m sure .  My aunt doesn’t want them.”
    After closing the garage doors, t hey retraced their steps back to Scott’s lab with each carrying a yearbook.
    Scott opened up Google Search with a swift click of the mouse.  He typed in Wendy Summers South Beach High .  Within a split second, hundreds of results were jamming the screen with data.  There were dozens of Wendy Summers on the list, but none