“Maybe you accidentally selected everything.”
“I didn’t.”
“You’ve been working all day.”
“I know.”
“Maybe you saved over it.”
“It’s cloud-based.”
Natalie looked toward the laptop.
Noah watched her.
Something felt wrong.
Not evidence.
A feeling.
Her calmness.
Natalie had spent the past month complaining about how seriously Noah took the assignment.
“You’re acting like you’re writing a Supreme Court brief.”
“It’s high school.”
“Mom says dinner.”
“You’re still typing?”
Normally, if Noah lost an important assignment eleven minutes before deadline, Natalie would either panic with him or make fun of him.
Tonight she sounded almost prepared.
11:51.
Noah clicked the document settings.
“Maybe there’s a version history.”
Natalie became still.
He noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Noah looked at her.
She crossed her arms.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
11:52.
Noah clicked.
A message appeared.
Revision history temporarily unavailable. Try again later or contact administrator.
“Great.”
He whispered.
Natalie exhaled.
“Just submit the old version.”
Noah turned.
“What?”
“The old draft.”
“You said you have one.”
“It’s incomplete.”
“Better than nothing.”
“I have eight minutes.”
“You’re not rewriting seven thousand words in eight minutes.”
“I know.”
“Then submit the draft.”
Noah stared at her.
Natalie became irritated.
“What?”
“Why are you acting like you want me to give up?”
Her face changed.
“I’m trying to help.”
“No.”
“You’re being weird.”
“You’re the one accusing me.”
“I didn’t accuse you.”
“You’re looking at me like I did something.”
Noah looked toward her phone.
“Were you on my laptop?”
Natalie laughed.
“What?”
“Earlier.”
“No.”
“You used it Tuesday.”
“To print my FAFSA forms.”
“Today.”
“Noah.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
Too quickly?
Maybe Noah only thought so because he was panicking.
11:53.
His mother called from downstairs.
“Noah?”
He shouted:
“Mom!”
A few seconds later Angela Bennett appeared in the hallway.
Forty-five.
Black.
Still wearing navy work pants and a white blouse from the clinic.
“What happened?”
“My paper disappeared.”
Angela looked confused.
“What do you mean disappeared?”
Noah explained.
Her expression shifted from confusion to concern.
“Do you have a backup?”
“Old draft.”
“Submit that.”
Natalie said immediately.
Noah looked at both of them.
“No.”
Angela frowned.
“You have six minutes.”
“Mom, this is the fellowship version.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”