“Why do you think I care about your dumb pencil case?” she yelled at him in the most jeering tone she could muster.
“It was in my backpack, and now it’s not there!” the boy yelled back, shaking his open backpack under Inès’s nose, as if it were irrefutable proof of her guilt.
“It’s not my fault if you don’t know where you put your things!”
“I didn’t touch it,” said Nassim furiously.
“Nor did I!” Inès said, even more furious. She was mad at being bugged by her younger brother for something she hadn’t done.
“What’s going on?” said Nora, coming down the stairs.
“She’s taken my pencil case,” said Nassim, pointing an accusatory finger at his sister.
“Yeah, right!”
Nora reached the bottom of the stairs, took her son’s schoolbag from his hands, and felt about inside.
“It’s not in there,” Nassim insisted.
“I’m just checking, am I allowed?”
Once she had ascertained that it wasn’t there, she put the bag down on the floor.
“It wasn’t you, Inès?”
“Goddamn it!” Inès barked angrily. “What on earth would I want with his stupid pencil case?”
“Please don’t speak to me like that,” said Nora, raising her voice. But her heart wasn’t in it. Nora wanted to say to Nassim that no one cared about his pencil case, and he should go and play somewhere else.
“Maybe you left it at your father’s house.”
“No, I brought it here, I know I did. I put it in my backpack.”
“Maybe it’s fallen out. Are you sure you’ve looked everywhere?”
“Yes.”
Nora looked around the entryway, peering under the coatrack, the shoe cupboard, the chest of drawers...where she saw Gérard’s folder that had slid underneath when she had slapped him. Her blood froze. It was a bright green, plasticized file folder, just like the ones he used for work. Nora stood up, trying to control the fear that gripped her, to hide the sudden panic she was sure could be read on her face.
“Have you searched your room?” she asked, trying hard not to sound flustered. Luckily Nassim was so focused on his pencil case that he didn’t notice anything. Inès had already gone back into the kitchen.
“I haven’t taken it out of my bag since we got back.”
“It has to be somewhere. Go check your room while I keep searching down here.”
“But I told you—”
“That’s enough, Nassim! Can’t you see it’s not here? Go and do what I said.”
Nassim, looking mutinous, grudgingly obeyed his mother and went upstairs. The moment she was alone in the entryway, Nora crouched down to pick up the folder. She opened it, cast a brief glance at its contents, and saw that the name Geniot was repeated several times. With a shaking hand, she snapped it closed and looked around for a place to conceal it. The sound of footsteps coming from the kitchen forced her to come up with a hasty hiding place; just as Inès appeared, she shoved it above the coatrack, on the shelf where they put their scarves and hats in the winter.
“Found it?” the girl asked.
“What?”
“The pencil case!”
“No...no, not yet.”
