The folder that I was most interested in was the statements one. Dad gave me my broker statement and my personal statement every single month, and part of our deal was that I had to go through them to see where my money was going and get a feel for his end of the job. I might or might not have followed through on my end of the bargain. Which was why I put the statements I hadn’t actually looked at in the Homecoming Looks folder, and only kept the ones I’d reviewed and highlighted in Iris Statements. I didn’t think Dad would ever look, but better safe than sorry. Free money was amazing, and I didn’t want to stop the gravy train.

“What are we doing?” Merit asked.

The Iris Statements folder was empty. “Oh my gosh,” I said. “It’s empty! That guy, whoever he was, was stealing my statements!”

“What guy?”

I felt too crazed to answer. Lucky for me—and unlucky for the burglar—most of the good stuff wasn’t filed in the right place anyway.

“Here,” I said, handing Merit a stack of personal statements from my Homecoming Looks folder. “See if you can find any from the Capstone Fund.”

He sat down on my bed. “Yeah. Here’s one.”

“Put them in a separate pile.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, and I got to work on the broker’s statements, sorting on my end too.

“Okay,” I said. “So, like, on my July statement, what is the total for the Capstone Fund?”

“It says $716.25.”

I looked down at the broker’s statement from July. “Damn,” I said, “$716.25.”

“Why ‘damn’? What are we looking for?”

“Um. I have no idea.”

We both burst out laughing.

“Okay,” he said, “here’s June.” I found my corresponding June statement as Merit said, “Fifteen shares, $723.15.”

I stopped and looked up at him. “Wait. What did you say?”

“Fifteen shares, $723.15.”

I looked down at the paper in my hand. “The broker’s statement says 12.75 shares at $723.15.”

“Okay,” he said. “A typo maybe?”

I couldn’t answer him. My mind was holding on to all these different thoughts and remembering my dad saying that some of the Capstone Fund’s statements were off. Something was happening here. I just wasn’t sure what it was yet.

“Look at, like, December of last year.”

He rifled through his papers, and I rifled through mine.

“Ten shares at $436.70,” he said.

I gasped and looked up at him. “Mine says 8.5 shares at $436.70.”

“So what does that mean?” he asked.