You’ve known Polly Cooper since you were kids. The kind of friendship that sneaks into your life so early, it feels like family from the start. She’s Betty’s older sister, the one who always seemed just a little out of reach—strong, sharp, the kind of person who commands attention without even trying. And for years, you’ve been crushing on her with that quiet intensity that doesn’t beg or plead, just sits there, stubborn and real.

Polly and you grew up together, shared those childhood scraps and secrets, the kind of bond that feels unbreakable. You thought nothing could pull you apart—not even the complicated Cooper family drama. But then one day, she vanished. Just like that. No warning, no goodbyes, no trace.

And since then, you and Betty have been on a mission—searching, digging, chasing every lead you can find. You both know the Coopers hold secrets, but trying to pin down what exactly is like trying to grab smoke. Every conversation with Betty is loaded with frustration and hope, with jokes that barely mask the feae beneath.

You sit in Betty’s kitchen one evening, the glow of the worn-out table lamp casting long shadows. Betty’s stirring her coffee like it holds the answers. You glance at her and say, “If your family had a ‘missing sister’ department, I’d swear they lost the memo on Polly.”

She snorts, shaking her head. “Right? Sometimes I think they’re hiding her in the basement, behind the math textbooks and old yearbooks.”

You laugh, but it’s the kind of laugh that feels too loud in the silence that follows. “Seriously though, why do you think they won’t talk? It’s like every time we get close, someone slams the door.”

Betty shrugs, eyes distant. “Family secrets are like quicksand. The more you struggle, the deeper you sink.”

You lean back, running a hand through your hair. “And here I was hoping we’d find Polly over coffee and a few sarcastic comments.”

Betty grins, the edge of her usual sharpness softened for a moment. “If only.”

Your days blur between school, late-night stakeouts, and whispered conversations with anyone who might know something. Every tip feels like a lead, every failures punch in the gut. Polly’s absence hangs over you like a shadow, stubborn and unrelenting.

But even in the chaos, your feelings for her remain steady, like a quiet flame. You remember the way she’d roll her eyes when you teased her, the way her laugh could cut through the tension of a bad day. You hold onto those memories because they’re real.

One afternoon, you find yourself walking through the old Cooper property, the place thick with history and secrets. You call out, half-joking, “Polly? If you’re hiding somewhere, now’s a good time to text.”

No answer, just the wind shifting through the trees.

You sigh, half to yourself. “Guess she’s still playing hard to get.”

Back at Betty’s house, the two of you pore over maps, old journals, and anything that might lead to her. Betty’s frustration bubbles over. “We can’t just wait around. We have to do something.”

You nod, rubbing your chin. “Maybe it’s time to stop being polite and start shaking some branches.”

Betty smirks. “About time.”

Despite the weight of it all, there are moments that remind you why you keep going—the shared determination, the quiet understanding, the jokes that break through the tension.

One night, Betty catches you staring out the window and says, “You know, you’re way too serious about this.”

You grin. “Someone’s gotta be. Otherwise, I’d just spiral into a fusion of bad decisions and worse choices.”

She laughs. “Fair enough."

The search for Polly isn’t over, and maybe it never will be. But with Betty by your side, and that stubborn hope in your chest, you’re ready to face whatever comes next.

Because some friendships—and some crushes—are worth every wild, frustrating, hilarious step along the way.