Fiction Writing Summer Camp 2021

She has just put her phone back in the pocket of her jeans when it buzzes again.
That won’t work, miss Blanchet.
The second she blocks the number she gets a string of texts, all links and screenshots
of articles relating to the Gardner Museum heist. She leans against the museum wall, suddenly
breathless.
Meet me outside the louvre at 12pm tomorrow. Don’t be late, miss Blanchet
We’re counting on you
Evie stares at the screen for several minutes before sending a one-word reply, why?
She is not expecting the answer she gets.
I think you already know
2003, PARIS
Evie Blanchet doesn’t sleep well that night. She reminds herself that they were nothing
but text messages, there won’t be anyone at the Louvre tomorrow at 12pm, even if
there will be, she wont be there and she’ll never know.
She finds it particularly difficult to admit to herself that part of her wonders what this
means.
So, she doesn’t.
She goes on pretending she couldn’t care less. Her father was an art dealer, many
would know his name, his daughter, the passion they both share.
After pointless hours of staring at the dark ceiling, she opens her laptop. The faint
glow of the screen reflects off her mirror, making the room brighter, but eerier. She googles
‘’Isabella Gardner heist’’ and clicks on a Wikipedia article. She reads and soon opens thirteen
new tabs, one for each piece stolen. She reads about the artists, the sculptors, the history
and how they could possibly be related. She reads and she reads until her laptop screen
grows dimmer and Paris grows brighter. She checks her phone, 8:37am, just enough time to
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