The Bellbottom Incident by Neve Maslakovic Read Free Book Online Page B

who: Junior Professor Steven Little, with whom I was currently rubbing elbows in the closet.
    “Science should be pure, free of all that red-tape stuff. I don’t mind the teaching part, but the rest of it…”
    Gabe agreed. “You said it, man. Is that the time? I spent the whole morning in the library and forgot to eat breakfast. Time to grab something before I keel over. Hey, are we still on for going as Einsteins tonight? We are? All right, I’ll see if I can dig up a suit. See ya later, Xave.”
    We heard the office door open and close. The three of us had our ears glued to the cupboard door, which seemed sturdily shut, but it turned out that History was the only thing holding it in place. As Gabriel’s footfalls receded down the hallway, the door burst open under the force of our combined weight, and the three of us fell out onto the linoleum floor of the grad student office.
    Xavier looked up from a stack of papers he had started grading, probably homework from one of the classes he was TA-ing. “How did you three get in there? Is this some kind of undergrad prank? Never mind, I don’t want to know. This office is off-limits to undergrads. How about you use your fancy sneakers to walk out the door?”
    As we picked ourselves up off the linoleum, he added in Dr. Little’s direction, “Though you , at least, look like you might be a grad student.”
    Dr. Little swatted at the knees of his jeans, which had acquired a layer of dust in the closet. “I’m not a student—I already have my PhD.” I sent him a look. What was he doing? I’m sure it was quite a strange and thrilling sensation to meet an older, more famous colleague at a time when that colleague had been no more than a newbie, but still.
    “Physics?” Xavier inquired.
    “No, computer science and engineering.”
    “Ah. Well, then you and your friends are in the wrong place,” Xavier said, his tone and words reminiscent of what Dr. Little might have used himself in similar circumstances. He nodded toward the door and gave his attention back to the papers.
    Abigail moved closer and tapped him on the shoulder. “We are looking for a girl.”  
    “In the janitor closet? Besides, who isn’t?”
    “No, you misunderstand me. A girl has gone missing.”
    Xavier put the pen down and studied the three of us for a moment. “A student?”
    “No, she’s…a visitor to campus,” I explained. “It’s a long story.”
    This was all quite strange. How could we be having this in-depth conversation with the young Xavier Mooney? What, had he developed selective amnesia and forgotten to mention it to us back at the lab?  
    “I’m Julia,” I introduced myself, still feeling quite odd about the whole thing. “I’m not a student either, nor is Abigail here—or, well, actually she is…”  
    “Not a student, huh, Julia? Are you single?”
    “What?”
    He looked me up and down and I almost said, Dr. Mooney, are you feeling all right?  
    “Do you have a picture of this girl you’re looking for? I could show it around, ask if anyone has seen her,” he offered, sounding as if he was only doing so to impress me. Great. He and Isobel would not end up together for the aforementioned reason, but he would, in a few years, fall in love with a young linguistics graduate student, Helen Presnik, who was now a good friend of mine and a senior professor in her own right.  
    I decided it would help matters if I thought of the man in front of me as the young and upcoming academic Xave and not as the older and mellower Dr. Mooney. After all, the Dr. Mooney I knew was quite different; he played his musical instruments at office parties and was kind to everyone who came by his lab, whether it was a newly arrived freshman or Chancellor Jane Evans herself.  
    I attempted to give a physical description of Sabina. “We don’t have a picture, I’m afraid, but she’s just about my height, with dark hair and eyes, strong shoulders, sandals, and a dress the color of