I paused beside the bed

    My appetite evaporated. I turned an about face and went to put my things away.
    “Aren’t you going to call Jacob?” Charlie asked. He was leaning around the living room wall, watching me
pick up.
    “No.”
    I started up the stairs.
    “That’s not very attractive behavior, Bella,” he said. “Forgiveness is divine.”
    “Mind your own business,” I muttered under my breath, much too low for him to hear.
    I knew the laundry was building up, so after I put my toothpaste away and threw my dirty clothes in the
hamper, I went to strip Charlie’s bed. I left his sheets in a pile at the top of the stairs and went to get mine.
    I paused beside the bed, cocking my head to the side.
    Where was my pillow? I turned in a circle, scanning the room. No pillow. I noticed that my room looked
oddly tidy. Hadn’t my gray sweatshirt been draped over the low bedpost on the footboard? And I would
swear there had been a pair of dirty socks behind the rocking chair, along with the red blouse I’d tried on two
mornings ago, but decided was too dressy for school, hanging over the arm. . . . I spun around again. My
hamper wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t overflowing, the way I thought it had been.
    Was Charlie doing laundry? That was out of character.
    “Dad, did you start the wash?” I shouted out my door.
    “Um, no,” he shouted back, sounding guilty. “Did you want me to?”
    “No, I got it. Were you looking for something in my room?”
    “No. Why?”
    “I can’t find . . . a shirt. . . .”
    “I haven’t been in there.”
    And then I remembered that Alice had been here to get my pajamas. I hadn’t noticed that she’d borrowed
my pillow, too — probably since I’d avoided the bed. It looked like she had cleaned while she was passing
through. I blushed for my slovenly ways.
    But that red shirt really wasn’t dirty, so I went to save it from the hamper.
    I expected to find it near the top, but it wasn’t there. I dug through the whole pile and still couldn’t find it. I

knew I was probably getting paranoid, but it seemed like something else was missing, or maybe more than one
something. I didn’t even have half a load here.
    I ripped my sheets off and headed for the laundry closet, grabbing Charlie’s on the way. The washing
machine was empty. I checked the dryer, too, half-expecting to find a washed load waiting for me, courtesy of
Alice. Nothing. I frowned, mystified.
    “Did you find what you were looking for?” Charlie yelled.
    “Not yet.”