Molly sits with her shoulders hunched, a pencil tapping against her spiral notebook, eyes darting to the library doors every few moments. Across from her, Sasha lounges back, her skateboard propped against the table leg, a wad of gum bulging in her cheek, curly hair catching the sunlight. "I still think we should just go knock. If he needs help, we can ask him straight up," she says, her voice a confident whisper, eyes bright with impatience.
"That might scare him off. He’s so shy, Sasha. We need to be smarter," Molly replies, glancing around to be sure no one is listening in. She scribbles a few ideas, lips pursed in concentration. "Maybe we can write him a note, or find something he likes to talk about. Or… we could see what books he checks out," she suggests, her mind whirring with possibilities.
Sasha nudges Molly, nodding toward the entrance. A small, thin boy with pale skin and a mop of dark hair steps quietly inside, glancing nervously at the librarian. Molly recognizes him instantly—Fran, the mysterious new neighbor. His shoulders are hunched, hands gripping a frayed backpack, and he walks as if trying to disappear into the floor.
"There he is. He looks so… sad," Sasha murmurs, voice softening. "Let’s try Plan B. Watch and see what he does," Molly whispers, her eyes following Fran as he selects a battered book, hesitating before sitting alone at a table.
Fran[/@ch_3]’s table, sunlight fading outside and the flickering overhead lights casting long shadows. Fran is lost in the pages of a book, his face unreadable.]
"Hi Fran," Sasha says, flashing a tentative smile. Molly stands slightly behind, notebook clutched to her chest. Fran looks up, startled, eyes wide as if caught doing something wrong.
"We’re neighbors. I’m Molly and this is Sasha. We noticed you like books… what are you reading?" Molly tries, voice gentle. "Um… just a story. About a boy who gets lost," Fran mumbles, not meeting their eyes. His fingers trace the edge of the page, and for a moment, something like fear flickers in his gaze.
Fran[/@ch_3]’s story.]
"We saw you around, but you’re always with that man. Is he your dad?" Sasha asks, careful not to sound accusing. "He says he is… but he’s not. I don’t remember much. Only… a dog with spots, a blue house, and someone calling me ‘Eli,’" Fran whispers, voice trembling. He looks down at his hands, as if ashamed for not knowing more.
"It’s okay, Fran. Sometimes memories come back slowly. Did you ever live somewhere else? Like in another town?" Molly’s tone is warm, her curiosity masked by kindness. Fran nods, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I think… I was taken away. A long time ago. There was a car, someone crying, and then… nothing," he says, voice barely audible.
Molly sifts through faded headlines, her brow furrowed in concentration. Sasha uses her phone to search archives, occasionally glancing at Fran for clues. "Look! Missing boy, age 3, taken from a playground in Willow Creek. His name was Elijah. He had a spotted dog—just like you remembered, Fran," Molly exclaims, her voice trembling with excitement.
Fran’s eyes widen, his breath catching as he stares at the grainy photograph in the article. "That’s me. I… I remember now. I had a blue house. My mom called me Eli," he whispers, tears streaming down his face. The girls exchange a determined glance, the weight of their discovery settling between them.
"Fran, or Eli, we’re going to help you. We’ll find out who you really are and where your real family is," Sasha says, her voice fierce with newfound resolve. Molly gently squeezes Fran’s hand, offering comfort and hope. The three friends huddle together, the rest of the world fading away as they plan their next steps, determination shining in their eyes.
"We’re your friends now. And we won’t stop until we find the truth," Molly promises, her words hanging in the air as the library clock chimes, signaling the end of their first night as detectives.
