In the blinding light of the September afternoon, the wave of the heat bounces off on the roads, producing an impression of a wavering image. The muggy heat pressed on my skin. Sweating at this point just made me feel like I was in hell. The sweat trickled down my neck and back like some spicy broth. To say that it is making me uncomfortable is rather an understatement.

Lauren left me with a message about a meeting that we were expected to have earlier, which I didn't know until she mentioned it a few minutes ago. After a trip to Los Angeles last week, this was the first time I had heard from her again.

It was almost 3:30 in the afternoon. Thirty minutes ago, when a teacher dropped by to tell us that Mr. Johnson wouldn't make it for today's lecture because he had an emergency; classes had ended in my class.

Last week after our trip, I tried to contact Lauren, but all I got from her was cold replies and mostly her, leaving my messages on read or seen. I wanted to ask her about the note that she claims her sister wrote and hid behind the frame of the paintings.

To feed my curiosity, I went to Google and searched for Cora Sanders Paintings and Cora Sanders, alone. There was a picture on Google where she was in an art gallery wearing a black and white polka-dotted dress with her family. I click on the image as it dates back to the 7th of July 2010.

Next to her was a blonde girl wearing a yellow floral dress. Her hair had been tied into pigtails. Only then did I notice Lauren holding her hand, which I quickly assumed was her sister.

They looked almost identical, but if you look at their eyes, you can clearly tell the difference. Lauren has green specks in her eyes and as for her sister, she has chocolate-brown eyes. Lauren's eyes were round, almost almond-shaped.

"Walters," I hear Liam calling for my attention. I look up from my phone, squinting my eyes as I see him approaching me with his hand in his pocket.

"What's up?" He says, fist-bumping me.

"Just waiting for someone," I say, "How's the party last Friday?"

Last week, on Friday, Liam invited me to a party. A guy named Chris was throwing a party at someplace his parents rented for his birthday. I was planning to attend when all of a sudden Lauren agreed to see the painting last week when I showed her the picture of the painting on my phone, making me ditch my plans with Liam.

"It was a hell of a party. You should've been there," He says, bumping my shoulder, "Chris ordered giant tubs of ice cream and the kids made the biggest sundae I have ever seen."

"Wow," I say, not really sounding surprised, "That does sound like a hell of a party."

"What made you ditch our plan about going to the party together?" He brought it up.

I looked at him, shrugging my shoulders, "I-I had an important appointment."

I lied. We hear the exit doors swing open as a bunch of students begin to rush out of the building. I look back at Liam and he says, "Okay, sure," as he pats my shoulder, smirking at me.

"I have basketball practice. See ya," He added as he waves goodbye before leaving.

"Hey," I hear Lauren come up behind me.

I turn around and see her on the opposite side of the car. She has this smile on her face that makes me furrow my eyebrows.

"What's up?" I gave her a nod.

"We have a meeting," She says, "Let's go somewhere. I have so much to discuss."

I unlocked the vehicle and she hopped inside quickly without saying anything. She put her bag on the floor and then buckled her seatbelt. I glared at her as I did the same thing. Since she was too busy talking about her plans to find those paintings and I was too busy driving and listening to her, I didn't bother bringing up the note her sister wrote.

❀

We were back at the diner where she officially told me for the first time that I was only a chauffeur. I let her order herself some chocolate-chip pancakes and a chocolate milkshake before getting into her plan.

"It's not obvious that you seem to love chocolate," I say as I continue to look at the menu in my hand, thinking of what food to order.

When I looked up, there was the same lady who got my order last week. As she taps her pen on the paper that she was holding, she smiles at me.

"I'll get spicy chicken wings, some fries, and coke," I say as she writes it down, "That's all, thank you."

Once the lady has left us to speak to ourselves again, I look at Lauren as she writes down something on a piece of paper.

"What are you writing?" I asked.

She didn't look up to meet me in the eye but she says, "I think there's a hidden word in my sister's note."

"There's a hidden note on a note?" I say, sounding confused, "That sounds weird and cool... and mysterious," I wiggle my eyebrows.

She looks up, pointing her pencil at me.

"I know," she says. "Here."

She hands me the piece of paper she seemed to scribble on before. I read it and it says: Picnic, 2010. I gave her a look and handed the paper back, confused about what I was reading.

"I don't get it," I say. "How can you even tell that there was a hidden word on that paper?" I asked her.

"I read her note and there were random letters that were capitalized and I lined up the letters together. I ended up with the word PICNIC and the numbers 2010," She says as she snatches the note from my hand and placed it inside her pocket.

"And?" I say, sounding displeased. The expression on her face falls flat.

"This is why you can never be my investigative assistant. I can't recruit someone who is as clueless as you," She says.

She rolls her eyes at me and continues to speak, "She was leading me to the next note. My mom painted a picture of a family on a picnic. I just don't remember the year she painted that."

Suddenly, I recall the photos that I looked for last week on Google. The moment I remember the painting that was on their family picture, the one where she was wearing a black and white polka-dotted dress, I feel my heart fluttering inside my chest at how cute she looked in that photo.

When I saw the image of her and her family in an art gallery, I remember her mom carrying a painting when that picture was taken. I may be mistaken, but I know that it was a family painting on a summer day, I'm sure. The grass was covered by a red and white checkered cloth and a basket with a baguette inside it.

"What is it?" Lauren notices the look on my face. "Is something wrong?"

"No," I say, "I think I know which painting you were referring to."

Inside my bag, I fished for my phone and unlocked it once I reached for it. I turn my data on and go through my past Google searches. I have to wait a few seconds before my search loads up. I then clicked on the first image and showed it to Lauren.

"This is it, isn't it?" I say as I showed her the picture on my phone.

"Why are you searching my mother's name on Google?" She notices the search I made instead of focusing on the picture I was trying to show her.

She looks at me with a questioning look written on her face, "That's not the point," I say, shaking my head. "This is what you're referring to, aren't you?"

I give her a moment to look at the picture before she looks at me, nodding her head.

"I think that's the one," She says.

She zooms in on the picture then she says, "This is it."

She turns over my phone so that it was facing me, "The date on the painting," She says, "January 9, 2010."

I look at the zoomed photo and read the date to clarify. I look at her as we both exchanged smiles at each other.

"The only thing we have to do now is to look for," She says, her eyes shining at the thought of her finding the painting and the next note.