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CHARLOTTE JACKSON'S QUEST for the creator of the notes began at approximately one fifty-three on a chilly January afternoon as she sat, questioning the meaning of life [what she often did when she was bored, with her thoughts clogging her brain simply because she had no one to talk to] on the cold, plastic bus seats, riding on home.

It was when she dug her hands in her fuzzy hoodie pocket that she felt the crumpled-up note from yesterday, which triggered the realization that she hadn't received any notes.

It was odd, to say the least, because they would always show up sooner or later within the day, whether it be in homeroom or at the dismissal bell.

But she was on the bus, and no note had come her way.

Maybe she didn't notice it today. Maybe it was too hidden. Maybe she just missed it.

Or what if something happened to the writer of these notes? What if they were sick, or got hit by a car on the way to school? Or maybe they were poisoned at lunch. Oh god, that's morbid.

These notes were strange. She liked them, she did. They got her through the day, and they've helped her through the year so far. But it was weird to think, someone made these for her, every day. She hadn't processed this thought since the first couple notes came her way, when she had freaked out that an anonymous person was contacting her through little notes and [strangely] cute, encouraging phrases.

This was extremely odd, as she hadn't not gotten a note all year.

Maybe they just didn't feel like making notes for her anymore.

But Charlie suddenly felt the need to figure out the person who wrote the cheesy pickup lines and [creepily sweet] compliments after realizing someone took their own free time to write down every single comment and joke, and they paid attention to details about her no one else had.

As soon as the bus roared to a stop at her bus stop, she speedily walked home and sauntered through the door.

When she had her mind set on something, she had her mind set on something.

The bell to the bookstore where she lived dinged, a sign of her entrance. She climbed up the long hike of stairs after stairs, finally reaching her room and completing the task without any siblings or parents disturbing her train of thought.

She dove onto her puffy comforter lying on her bed and reached out for her drab, ratty notebook with pages falling out.

She plucked a pencil off of the side table beside her bed and rolled it around, weaving it through her fingers.

Her legs were crossed on the bed and her long, brown waves of hair floated around her face as she stared contently at the journal. She blew a puff of air at her bangs, that were blocking her vision.

One way to start off, she supposed, was to remember all of the people who had been absent to school. She could take that list and narrow it down by looking at everyone on the list's handwriting to compare it with the note's style of writing. If the results were negative [meaning no one's handwriting matched up], she could always try another approach, like maybe make a list of all the people that would want to write a note to her every single day [that list was extremely short].

Detective Charlotte was in the building today.

She eagerly scribbled on the top of a blank page, mentally applauding herself for that ingenious idea. Her writing stated, in big letters:

DETECTIVE CHARLOTTE J. JACKSON AND THE CASE OF THE MISSING NOTE

On the first line she scrawled: POSSIBLE REASONS FOR BEING NOTE-LESS TODAY underlined multiple times. She slapped a couple bullet points on the page, so it now read:

• the creator of the holy notes decided to take a vacation from the painstaking work of being nice to me and quit their job. to sum it up, they stopped writing notes just because. (i will find out tomorrow if they gave up or note)

• they forgot

• they got hit by a bus on the way to school

• they were poisoned by today's school lunch of a quesadilla

• they were absent. they would have to have been at school every other day for this bullet point to work, however, since this is the first time without a note. it would be hard to get me a note at school without being at school.

Below the bullet point with the reasoning for the 'absent' excuse, Charlie had written in little dash marks the names of the people who had been absent at school that she noticed. She'd have to cross out the people who had been absent before in the school year from the list eventually, but she'd get to that sooner or later.

She would also need to see if they were absent again tomorrow, because if they were and she did happen to receive another note, that wouldn't be possible either.

Pretty much, the equation for the absent explanation was...

PERSON + AT SCHOOL = NOTE

and

PERSON + ABSENT = NO NOTE.

Yay, math.

The list of names were:

- Shane Marshall

- Malcolm Dawes

- Nick Fornier

- Darla McCourtney

- Theodore Higgins

- Sadie Hunter

She thought that list was good. She was fairly sure she thought of everyone.

Charlotte supposed she would have to talk, or maybe spy on, these people. From jocks to nerds to cheerleaders to theatrical geeks, she planned on squeezing as much information out of them that she could.

She would see who has been absent before, and cross their names off the list. After that, she'd strike. Scrounging every piece of paper they wrote to analyze their handwriting, and watching their every move to see if they plant any notes near her.

She could be completely wrong, she contemplated. There was the possibility Charlotte forgot to write down the names of some people that were absent. She might have the idea completely wrong, that maybe they weren't absent, and they just forgot to write one.

Ugh, this was hurting her brain.

Wait for tomorrow, she told herself. Then she could [probably] narrow the list down.

•|•|•

She found a note the next day folded in the crack of her locker that read:

I'm sorry you didn't get a note, I was absent. Because of that, you get two bonus notes today to make up for yesterday.

Absent. They were absent. That narrowed her bullet points down. That meant that one of the people on her list was writing these notes to her, every day.

When she opened her locker up, two more notes were lying on her books. This was more notes than she'd ever gotten in a day. She unfolded the first one.

Are you Harry Potter's first defense against the dark art's teacher? Because you're always on the back of my mind.

Oh my god. That was too corny. She understood the Harry Potter joke, being a massive nerd and all. The fact that she lived in a bookstore encouraged her nerdiness, too. They must have seen her reading it. That means the note planter has probably read or watched Harry Potter. Or maybe they just saw the cheesy pickup line on tumblr. Note two read:

I would love to be friends with you someday. But I'm not sure if I'm ready to reveal myself.

a/n

so???? first chapter, idk man. how was it? thoughts? [was it confusing, bc i tried to make it as little confusing as i could]

do you like charlotte? who do you think the note planter will be? any guesses?

vvv short, sorry. other chapters should be longer! also, this was at 273 in teen fiction kinda laughing out loud like what

i planned out the majority of this book one night, so there's that. i think you guys will like it...

happy valentine's day, for all you reading!