“This doesn’t make any sense,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I swear, the book was on my desk when I fell asleep.”
Mark adjusted his glasses, lifting his eyes from the laptop on his lap. “Maybe you stashed it somewhere; you just have to remember,” he suggested, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “I do that a lot.”
“Trust me, Mark,” I said, my voice low and laced with conviction. “I didn’t stash it anywhere—besides, I’ve ransackedmy room and still can’t find it.” My brows drew together. “Someone took it.”
“But how?” he asked. “You said the door and windows were locked from the inside.”
“They were, I swear.”
“Eva, the cameras didn’t capture anything unusual—you saw it yourself.”
“I know,” I mumbled under my breath, rubbing my eyes with my fingers.
“Unless…” he said, his expression turning serious.
Curious, I stared at him, anticipating his opinion. “Unless what?”
“…they somehow teleported into your room.” His eyes crinkled at the corners, and a sheepish smile played on his lips.
The shadow of excitement on my face faded, replaced by a frown. “It’s not funny, Mark.” I rose to my feet, slinging my backpack over my shoulder.
“Where’re you going?” He looked up at me.
“To the library,” I answered, walking away.
“What’re you gonna tell them?” he called after me.
I slowed down, then turned around to face him while walking backward with my arms outstretched. “That someone teleported into my room and stole their book.”
He laughed and shook his head.
I drew a deep breath and took the first step toward the entrance. My shoes scuffed against the pavement as I pushed the door open and walked inside. I went straight to Helen’s station behind the counter, wearing a polite smile.
“Hey, Helen.” I halted in front of her, my voice soft and gentle.
“Eva.” She lowered the book from her face. “How are you, kiddo?”
“Uh….” I scratched the back of my head. “I might be in trouble…I think.”
Her green eyes squinted behind those wire-rimmed glasses. “What kind of trouble?”
I pursed my lips, my gaze avoiding hers. “I may or may not have misplaced one of your books.”
A small frown perched on her face. “Evaline Martha Harlow—”
“I’m sorry,” I cut her off, my voice dripping with remorse and confusion. “I don’t know what happened. It was on my desk last night, and this morning, it was gone.” The words rushed out in a defensive tone.
She exhaled sharply, plucking off her glasses as she rubbed her eyes.
“Come on, Helen, you know me. Have I ever lost a borrowed book before?”
She combed her fingers through her butterscotch hair and met my gaze. “Did you search everywhere for it?”
“I did.”
“Maybe someone took it.”
“Right?” I asked rhetorically, “The only problem is, my door was locked all through the night, and my roommate is off campus.”
