It took Friday’s legs several days to recover from the ordeals of orienteering.
“Ow,” said Friday as she gingerly got out of bed. “Exercise is bad enough when you’re doing it, but it hurts afterward as well. Indeed, from my observation, it hurts more on the third day than it does on the first.”
“I know,” agreed Melanie. “It’s a wonder fit people manage to walk at all.”
“I imagine if you exercise regularly your muscles get used to it,” said Friday.
“How awful,” said Melanie. “I never want to find out.”
As they headed out to breakfast, Friday and Melanie came across a large group of giggling girls gathered in the lobby of their dormitory.
“What’s going on?” asked Friday.
“The police are on their way!” said Mirabella. “They’re going to be here all afternoon.”
The girls giggled again.
“What for?” asked Friday.
“They’re looking for that escaped convict,” said Trea. “They’ve been searching the whole region. Today they’re searching here.”
“They’re bringing all the recruits from the police academy to comb the grounds,” said Mirabella. “Just think, hundreds of fit young men everywhere, searching for clues. I’m going to skip English so I can go and watch.”
“You’d better be careful, Friday,” said Trea. “They might arrest you again.”
The giggling erupted into cackling.
“Enjoy your objectification of men in uniform,” said Friday. “We’re going to breakfast.”
“There’s a letter for you,” said Melanie, noticing an envelope in Friday’s pigeonhole near the doorway.
“Really?” said Friday, taking the official-looking envelope and inspecting the letterhead as she headed out the door.
“Who’s it from?” asked Melanie.
“It’s from the university medical lab,” said Friday. “It’s my test results.”
“I didn’t know there was something wrong with you,” said Melanie, “apart from the obvious social malfunction, and I doubt that could be measured in a blood test.”
“No, it’s the results from the DNA test on the string,” said Friday. “The piece we found in the library. I got one of my mother’s former PhD students to run it through for me.”
“Your mother is a theoretical physicist,” said Melanie. “Why would she have a student working in a DNA testing lab?”
“The student changed her major,” explained Friday. “After one semester of working with my mother, she grew to hate all things relating to quantum mechanics generally and M-theory in particular.”
As they walked across to the dining hall, Friday tore open the envelope and began reading the cover letter. “I don’t believe it,” she said. “They found an exact match.”
“I thought you couldn’t match DNA unless you had a sample from a suspect,” said Melanie.
“You can’t,” said Friday. “If they found a match, that means the saliva must belong to someone associated with the university who voluntarily allowed their sample to be available.”
Friday flipped through the rest of the paperwork, looking for the name.
“Let’s see,” said Friday. “It’s a female, Anglo-Saxon Celtic, no genetic diseases, called…” She found the piece of paper with the name. “Friday Astrella Barnes.”
“What a coincidence,” said Melanie. “The thief is someone with the same name as you, apart from the middle name. You’d never have such a ridiculous middle name.”
“My siblings are called Quantum, Quasar, Orion, and Halley,” said Friday. “Of course I have a ridiculous middle name!”
“Does it start with an ‘A’?” asked Melanie.
“Yes,” said Friday.
“It isn’t Astrella, is it?” asked Melanie.
“It is,” said Friday.
“That’s either a really big coincidence,” said Melanie, “or they found your spit on that string.”
“I think the probability of my spit being on a piece of string at a crime scene is much greater than two sets of parents each thinking it was a good idea to name their daughter Friday Astrella Barnes,” said Friday.
“But how did your spit get on that string?” asked Melanie.
“I don’t know,” said Friday.
“Do you remember licking any string?” asked Melanie. “Do you think it is possible that you could have cleverly and elaborately broken into the library, stolen the map, and then entirely forgotten about it?”
“No,” said Friday.
“You could have been hypnotized,” suggested Melanie.
“That’s not possible,” said Friday. “When I was eight I hypnotized myself and implanted instructions in my subconscious to never allow myself to be hypnotized again.”
“So what did happen?” asked Melanie.
“Someone must have stolen my spit,” said Friday.
“But who would do something so unhygienic?” asked Melanie. “And weird?”
“Ian,” said Friday. “He’s trying to get rid of me to protect his scholarship.”