The Boat on the Drying Shelf

Tala loved the Thursday pottery class. The studio smelled of wet clay and warm stone. Long wooden shelves ran along one wall. On the shelves, the new bowls dried slowly.

Every student had a place on the shelf, with a name card. Tala's place was number nine. Una's place, next to hers, was number ten.

One Thursday, Tala came in and stopped at the door. Number nine was empty. Her blue bowl was gone. In its place sat a small paper boat.

"Una," she said. "Where is my bowl?"

Una came over and looked at the shelf. "Maybe you put it somewhere else."

"I put it here. It took me two weeks to make it."

"Then somebody took it." Una picked up the boat. It was plain white paper, folded small, and it was dry. "And left this."

"Why does a thief leave a boat?"

"A very polite thief," said Una.

Tala did not laugh. She looked along the shelf. Nine other bowls sat in their places. Nothing else was missing. The door was locked every night. The instructor and the owner of the studio each had a key.

"I want to know who did it," Tala said.

"It is only a bowl."

"It is my bowl."

The next Thursday, another bowl vanished. This time it was a green cup. It belonged to the girl at number four. Again, a paper boat sat in its place. The studio buzzed with talk all evening.

Tala made a plan. She wanted to find footprints. All week, she thought about it. On Wednesday, she asked the instructor if she could stay late. She said she wanted to clean the shelves. The instructor agreed. Tala spread a thin layer of dry clay dust on the floor. She put it right under the shelf.

"If someone walks here, we will see the shoes," she told Una.

On Thursday morning, they came in together. The studio was quiet. Tala's new bowl, a small yellow one, was gone from number nine. A paper boat stood in its place.

Tala looked at the floor. The dust was full of footprints. There were small ones and big ones. There were round marks from a broom. The instructor walked there every morning. So did the cleaner and two students who came early.

"That is no good," said Una.

"I know." Tala frowned. "Everyone walks here. This plan was foolish."

"It was a good idea. It just did not work."

Tala sat down on a stool. She held the third paper boat in her hands. "We looked at the floor. But the boats are the real message."

"What do you mean?"

"The thief does not hide. The thief leaves a boat each time. It is a note, like a letter." Tala turned the paper over and over. "So let us answer it."

Una's eyes grew bright. "You want to write to the thief?"

"Not write. Fold." Tala took a sheet of paper from her bag. She folded it carefully into a boat. It had the same shape as the others. Inside the boat, she wrote one small line in pencil. Where do my bowls go?

She put the boat on the shelf at number nine. Then she went home.

On Friday, the studio was closed. On Saturday, too. Tala thought about it all weekend. Maybe nothing happened. Maybe the thief laughed at her.

On Monday, the instructor opened the studio early for a special class. Tala was the first one in. She ran to the shelf.

The boat was gone.

In its place lay another boat, folded from the same white paper. It was smaller than the first. Tala opened it with shaking fingers. The pencil line read, Follow the water.

"Una!" Tala shouted, though Una was not there yet. "Una, come and see!"

Una arrived ten minutes later. She read the note twice. "Water," she said. "The sink?"

"The sink is in here. The note says follow it. Where does the water go?"

They went to the big sink at the back of the studio. A pipe ran from it along the wall. It went out through a small hole. They followed the pipe outside. It led to a narrow stream behind the building. The stream ran past an old stone wall. Then it went into green bushes.

At the edge of the stream, Tala stopped.

On a flat rock, in a shallow pool, sat her blue bowl. It was full of clear water. A tiny bird stood on its edge and drank. Next to it sat the green cup and the yellow bowl. Each held a small paper boat that floated on the water.

"They are bird baths," Una whispered.

"Someone set them here for the birds." Tala knelt beside the rock. The bowls were clean and bright. The birds did not seem afraid. "Someone who takes care of this place."

"But who? The instructor?"

"The instructor does not hide things," said Tala.

They looked around. There were no other footprints in the mud. Only a small animal left paw prints. Past the thicket, a path led up a little hill. The grass on the path was flat. People walked there often.

Tala lifted her blue bowl from the water. She turned it over in her hands. On the bottom, below her own mark, was a tiny boat. Someone drew it in pencil. Beside it were two words in a neat, careful hand.

Thank you.

"I do not understand," said Una.

"Neither do I." Tala smiled. "But I am not angry any more."

Una pointed up the path. A light shone in a small window up the hill. A thin line of smoke rose from the roof. The window had a paper boat on it.

Tala put the blue bowl gently back on the rock. The birds came back at once.

"Do we go up?" asked Una.

Tala looked at the window for a long time. The boat in the window was larger than the others. Along its side, in neat pencil, was her name.