Guy Grey was anxious- in a very worried way. He needed to approach his Page of Cups as soon as possible. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of doom, one that comes with knowing that a window opportunity was soon to close. He was going to lose his Page, somewhere, somehow, and sooner than he anticipated. He tried asking his cards what the deal was, but even they said little, only foretelling a trouble yet to come.

Guy could barely remember what his Page looked like, given that their interaction was fleeting and his memory equivalent to a water balloon with a pinprick hole at the bottom. Nevertheless, for the next few days, he scoured the school for a very blonde head of hair. Twice he thought he found her, but twice he was mistaken. He stalked the library, the cafeteria, the outdoor hiding spots away from watchful eyes. Guy was aware that his actions were probably not the best ones, and he could be reported as a suspicious character, and yet he persisted. His intentions were pure. That was all that mattered to him.

It wasn’t until nearly a week after their first encounter did Guy find his Page once more. He was scoping out the library, in what he believed to be a fairly inconspicuous matter. He sat at a table, pretending to pour over a random book he picked up. He looked between the words and his surroundings constantly, completely unaware that someone could approach him from behind. Which is exactly what someone did.

“So...you’re into feminism, huh?” came an almost familiar voice from behind Guy. He whipped around rather quickly and clumsily. A girl with very blonde hair, half of it tucked in away in a bun atop her head, crossed her arms and raised a brow at him. He blinked at her. The Page. She nodded at his book.

Guy glanced at it. The Feminine Mystique. “Oh! Yeah, definitely. Yes.” He motioned to it. “Riveting stuff about...uh...equality. And women. And all...that.”

The girl obviously did not believe him. She sighed and pulled a piece of gum out of her pocket. “Look, I know you’ve been hiding out here for the past few weeks. As someone who’s in here a lot, I find it a little disturbing. Are you people watching or are you just another creep?” She popped the piece of gum in her mouth and started chewing.

He stood, awkwardly. “Actually...uh...I was looking...for someone.” He paused. “For...you, actually.”

The girl blinked at him. Then she began to laugh, loudly, almost cruelly. She bent over at the waist, her laughter shaking her whole body. “Good Lord that was the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard. Seriously.” She shook her head and snorted. “Maybe you should be pseudo-reading a book on how to ask a girl out. ”

Guy frowned and crossed his arms. He and the girl stood nearly eye-to-eye. She didn’t flinch from his gaze. “That wasn’t a pick-up line. I was looking for you.”

“What are you, my personal stalker?” Her face suddenly darkened. She leaned in closer. “Were you hired by my parents to keep tabs on me?”

“What? I wasn’t-” Guy was cut off by a girl brushing by the Page, with a friendly Hi Iris, and the Page turned to her, changing her tone to something more conversational. He stared. Iris Ryan. His Page was Iris Ryan, the girl who liked to break into buildings and film her exploration of them...and then get arrested. Repeatedly.

Things were really not looking good for Guy, a boy who had little to no interest in ever getting arrested.

Iris turned back to him. She seemed calmer than before, but still on edge. “What were you saying?”

Guy cleared his throat. “I was uh...looking for you.”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I wanted to…” he paused, feeling the potential-pre-arrest dread “...go on an adventure with you. Like, go find a building and explore it. I uh...want to look into detective work in the future...and so...I was um...hoping that...that we could...y’know…I know you do...stuff...so...”

Iris waved her hand, ending his pitiful explanation with a halt. She took a step back and looked at him. She squinted her eyes and brushed her hair out of her face and tapped her chin. Guy felt like he was on display, every flaw of his bare and presented. In that one minute of exposure, he vowed never to visit another museum. “Okay,” said Iris Ryan, the Page of Cups. “Okay.”

“What?”

“You want to start exploring, yeah?” She swung her backpack onto the table behind him and fished around in it. She pulled out an envelope labelled 303, placing it on the table. She gestured to it. “This is my current project. If you join me on this one, help me make sense of it, I can help you in on that detective work you’re looking for. I have plenty of pals in the police force.” She smiled and shook her head, as if having an inside joke with herself. “Anyway. Open it.”

Guy reached a rather sweaty hand towards the envelope. He felt Iris stare at him as he reached inside. There were a handful of printed photos, and then one singular scrap of paper. He pulled out the scrap of paper, unfolded it, and felt his heart sink into his stomach.