Clouds. My dreams had always been random. School. My dreams had always a local focus to them. Snapshots of the day, children rushing, laughing. My dreams pieced things together quicker than I. It was this way before I had pursued Psychology as not only part of work training, but as a school hobby, but already I knew that the subconscious was amazing.

But what where they trying to say? What was it that I was missing?

I awoke more confused than ever. I tried to pinpoint the notion in my dreams, but nothing seemed to strike. Finally, sighing, I gave up and went for the option of going back over the evening once again.

I pushed every thought of Helena and her actions out my mind; I doubted that she was the thief, plus her theories were annoyingly correct and a terrible distraction.

Next, my other main suspects, Jason and Mark, had the opportunity, especially if they had been in the classroom the lunchtime of Wednesday. I highly doubted Steph was involved, for, though she was a tomboy and enjoyed their company, I doubted that she would condone any major thievery of theirs, as I had known her always to have a kind heart. The boys, if working on their own, could have spent that extra time, and many others before it, ‘working’ and plotting to take the something valuable, just to cause trouble. It was, unfortunately, their style, but was that evidence enough…?

And what else had happened yesterday?

I came to the conclusion that nothing other had happened that afternoon, even if my thoughts had been striving to say differently. The only other thing that had happened in the classroom when Mrs. Pennyfeather had left was Chloe tucking her materials under the flowing dark cloth of the under-cabinet area, safely out the way…

Wait… We never placed anything in the space under the display cabinet. It would become lost to time because nobody would ever think to look there…making that space the perfect hiding place.

I was then in a total hurry to get to school. I could no longer linger about the house because my thoughts were always urging me on. That, in turn, began my restlessness and inability to sleep for longer than necessary. There I was, filled with accusations and rearing to go; I hated that I had to hold back my mind, but sometimes it was an unavoidable thing to do.

My mother noticed that I was distracted throughout my breakfast, pushing around the sugary cereal, bored, but she had her hands full with my brother.

“Benny, dear, you need to look smart for the interview for your new school. Stop fidgeting. Oh, if only we had more space in this house. Hmm…

“Are you okay, Agnetha? What do you think of building a conservatory here? It’s a new idea I’ve just had. There, through the living room, and then we could eat there and use this room for better things. Oh, Ben, not your tie… Yes, it’s necessary…”

I rolled my eyes. In the house’s hectic lifestyle, there never was any time for me.

And so, I took the bus to school, still deep in thought.

The End

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