Page 19 of Artifice
Her heart started to warm, but she immediately pulled the emotion back.
However, she reminded herself, just because Jason’s dad might have had something to do with her family’s death, that didn’t mean that Jason knew about it. None of this meant he was involved.
But somehow that information skewed her view of him, whether she liked it or not.
Neither had promised each other anything. However, she wouldn’t ghost him. Their relationship was already complicated since they lived so far apart.
She typed back:
Miss you too. I’ll try to call later tonight if you’re available.
He replied:
I’ll be anxiously waiting.
Despite herself, Olive grinned.
She was about to text Tevin when she felt a presence above her.
Then a shadow darkened her desk.
Her breath caught, and she straightened.
When she looked up, Ms. Strickland was staring at her, the sour expression still on her face. “Perhaps you didn’t hear that cell phones are not permitted in my class.”
A round of snickers peppered the air around Olive.
Great. So much for not calling attention to herself.
Olive raised her chin. “I wasn’t aware the rules applied to me.”
“Adults must set the example.” Then Ms. Strickland extended her hand.
Did this woman really think Olive would hand over her cell phone?
Liv Bettencourt would never do such a thing.
Instead, she rose, hoisting her purse over her shoulder. “I’ve seen enough. Thank you, and I’ll let you go back to teaching.”
Ms. Strickland’s gaze bore into her as she left.
How would Margaret feel about that exchange? Olive was sure the staff here had been instructed to be on their best behavior.
Ms. Strickland had failed.
As Olive stepped into the hallway, she glanced around. She no longer had an escort. Margaret had planned on meeting Olive here after class.
Without her, Olive felt a new sense of freedom.
Olive glanced at her watch. That class still had fifteen minutes until it was over.
Maybe this would be the perfect time for Olive to take a little tour around this campus herself . . . without being under Margaret’s hawk-like gaze.
Carefully, Olive strolled down the hallway. She heard the instruction going on through the doors on each side of the hallway and wondered if every class was as boring and uninspiring as Ms. Strickland’s.
Why, out of all the teachers here at Lighthouse Harbor, had Margaret chosen Ms. Strickland’s class for Olive to observe? For someone who wanted to put their best foot forward, it didn’t seem like such a wise decision.
Olive resisted the urge to peer inside the small windows on each door, looking for either Abe or Peyton.
