The Case of the Missing Homework

Arthur Penhaligon stared at the blinking cursor, a tiny, pulsating beacon of doom on the vast, white expanse of his laptop screen. The essay. The dreaded college application essay. It was supposed to be his chance to shine, to reveal the depth and brilliance lurking beneath his perpetually rumpled exterior. Instead, it felt like an invitation to excavate his personal landfill of awkwardness.

Chapter 8. The Case of the Missing Homework. This one was a classic. A masterpiece of creative fabrication, really, if he did say so himself. It had all the hallmarks of a promising Arthur Penhaligon production: a kernel of truth, a generous dollop of panic, and an ending that was, shall we say, less than triumphant.

It had started innocuously enough. A history paper, due on a Tuesday. Arthur had meticulously researched the socio-economic impact of the Industrial Revolution on Victorian textile workers, then promptly misplaced the entire folder between the abyss of his backpack and the Bermuda Triangle that was his bedroom floor. Panic, a familiar friend, began its insidious creep.