Chapter 4 - The Missing Screw
Chloe examined the mechanism without touching it.
The right pulley sat slightly crooked.
The belt had slipped because its tension screw was gone.
She knew the screw.
M3 stainless steel.
Eight millimeters.
She had painted a tiny blue mark across the head and bracket after the third prototype loosened during testing.
“Could it have fallen out?” Principal Ramirez asked.
Chloe shook her head.
“It would drop into the basin.”
Mr. Singh had already checked.
Nothing.
Rachel asked the obvious question.
“Who had access?”
Everyone in Ms. Mitchell’s classroom.
That was the problem.
The project had remained on the demonstration table overnight.
No locked cabinet.
No camera inside the classroom.
Custodial staff entered.
Students entered that morning.
Ms. Mitchell arrived first.
Aiden came early.
So did Chloe.
Suspicion spread faster than evidence.
By the end of the day, students were whispering that Aiden sabotaged the model because he couldn’t explain it.
Another rumor blamed Ms. Mitchell.
Chloe hated both.
She was angry at them.
That did not mean she wanted accusations invented.
At home Rachel made pasta while Chloe spread photocopies of her notebook across the kitchen table.
“You are not investigating this yourself,” Rachel said.
“I’m checking my records.”
“You have the face.”
“What face?”
“The face you make before doing something I’ll find out about later.”
Chloe frowned.
“I don’t have a face.”
“You absolutely have a face.”
Chloe returned to the pages.
Her mother sat across from her.
“What do you want to happen?”
“Ms. Mitchell tells everyone I built it.”
“And?”
“Aiden admits he knew.”
“He already did.”
“Not to the class.”
Rachel nodded.
“And?”
Chloe hesitated.
“I want to compete.”
“That one might be harder.”
“It’s my project.”
“I know.”
“It isn’t fair.”
“No.”
Chloe stared at her.
Adults usually rushed to soften that word.
Rachel didn’t.
“What if I lose the showcase because of them?”
“Then that will be unfair.”
“Mom.”
“I’m not going to lie to you and say everything gets repaired perfectly.”
Chloe looked down.
Rachel continued.
“But not winning a showcase cannot erase who designed the machine.”
“That’s easy to say when nobody put someone else’s name on your work.”
Rachel became quiet.
Then she rolled up one sleeve.
A pale scar crossed her forearm.
“You know how I got this?”
“Hospital accident.”
“Sort of.”
Rachel had been a new nurse.
An older physician ordered medication at a dosage Rachel believed was unsafe.
She questioned it.
He dismissed her.
Rachel checked.
She was right.
The patient avoided harm.
Later the physician told the department chair he had caught the error himself.
“What did you do?” Chloe asked.
“Nothing.”
Chloe blinked.
“You?”
Rachel smiled sadly.
“I was twenty-three and terrified.”
“What happened?”
“He got praised.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever tell?”
“Years later. By then it didn’t matter much.”
Rachel reached across the table.
“I still wish I had spoken when it mattered.”
Chloe looked at her notebook.
“Did that make you brave later?”
“No.”
Rachel smiled.
“Being brave later made me brave later.”
Chloe laughed quietly.
The next morning Principal Ramirez called.
The missing screw had been found.
Not in the classroom.
In Aiden’s backpack.
Chloe went cold.
Aiden denied taking it.
His father demanded an immediate meeting.
Graham Reynolds arrived furious.
“My son is being framed.”
Ms. Mitchell, now temporarily removed from classroom duties, was not present.
The screw had been discovered because Aiden emptied his bag in the counselor’s office searching for an assignment.
It fell from a side pocket.
Blue paint.
Correct size.
Aiden stared at it as if it were a snake.
“I didn’t put that there.”
Principal Ramirez asked, “Who had access to your backpack?”
“Everybody. It was hanging behind my chair.”
Graham leaned forward.
“Then this proves nothing.”
Chloe agreed.
Everyone looked at her.
She felt strangely annoyed.
“What?”
Rachel asked.
“You agree?”
“Yes. A screw in his backpack doesn’t prove he took it.”
Aiden stared at her.
“Thanks.”
“I didn’t say I believe you.”
His shoulders dropped.
“But I don’t know.”
Principal Ramirez nodded.
“That is the correct distinction.”
Mr. Singh asked Chloe whether she remembered the screw being present that morning.
She closed her eyes.
She had checked the motor.
Pump.
Battery.
Belts.
Had she checked that exact screw?
“I don’t remember.”
“Don’t guess.”
“I’m not.”
Aiden whispered, “I swear I didn’t do it.”
Graham placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.
This time the gesture looked protective rather than managerial.
The school reviewed hallway video.
At 7:48 that morning, Aiden’s backpack hung outside the classroom.
Students passed.
At 7:51, Ms. Mitchell entered the room.
At 7:54, she stepped into the hall and moved several bags because a cart needed to pass.
The camera angle did not show her hands clearly.
At 7:55, she returned inside.
That proved nothing.
But it created another question.
Then Chloe remembered something.
“My tool box.”
Everyone turned.
“What about it?”
Mr. Singh asked.
“I keep spare screws.”
They checked.
The compartment holding M3 screws was empty.
Chloe knew it had contained at least six the previous afternoon.
Someone had removed all of them.
Why remove six if only one was needed?
Unless the goal was not merely to sabotage the model.
Unless whoever did it wanted Chloe unable to fix it quickly.
Principal Ramirez looked at the evidence log.
Then at Chloe.
“There may be another explanation.”
“What?”
“You told us Ms. Mitchell pushed the tool tray toward you immediately when the model failed.”
“Yes.”
“What would have happened if you had tried to repair it?”
Chloe understood.
She would have opened the compartment.
Found no screws.
Failed.
In front of everyone.
The “girl who glued decorations” would have been unable to fix the invention too.
And Aiden would still have held the certificate.
Chloe felt sick.
But Principal Ramirez raised a hand.
“We still do not know who removed them.”
Facts.
Not assumptions.
Chloe nodded.
Then Mr. Singh’s phone rang.
He listened for less than a minute.
When he hung up, his expression was grave.
“The district restored another deleted email from Ms. Mitchell’s account.”
Rachel asked, “About Chloe?”
“Yes.”
Mr. Singh looked directly at her.
“It was sent the night before the demonstration.”
And its final sentence read:
May you like
Tomorrow should make it clear who is actually capable of presenting this project.
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