At 11:41 p.m., nineteen minutes before the , Shaylene brushed her teal forelock away from her round glasses and clicked on the folder. The final of their group report was gone. The on the screen contained only a rough , and the page still showed a red warning. “Maybe I forgot to it,” she whispered. “Or maybe I saved it in the wrong .”
Darlene’s golden key tapped against a chair as she leaned over. She steadied the key with her one white front paw and pointed to the edit history. “Before we anyone, let’s the .” Arlene opened the edit history. The team had the same at different times. One had caused a , but the service had kept a . “We can it,” Arlene said. Shaylene took her paws off the keyboard. For the first time that night, she let someone else help.
Jolene brought over two cups of tea, her long, striped brown ear tilting toward the screen, and read the last page. “Wait. Our had sixty , but only twenty answered this question. Why does the say ‘80% of students’?” The answer was sixteen out of twenty. A neat chart had made a small look like strong . Arlene’s golden-brown spines lifted as she leaned over the chart. She checked the original and changed the . They kept the number but made the more : sixteen of the twenty respondents to that question preferred longer library hours.
The network was slow. Instead of trying to the file again and again, Darlene asked Jolene to read the aloud. They had to a PDF and the upload on a second page. Shaylene watched the screen until a appeared. She took a screenshot and sent it to the group chat. Then she wrote, “Thanks for catching that mistake.” She deleted “Sorry I ruined everything” before anyone could see it.