Page 118 of For Dear Life

A reaction. I stomp over. “Good evening.”

“Is it?” He crosses his arms. “Congratulations on your detective work, by the way.”

Grayson places a hand on Rowan’s shoulder before whispering. I glare, unimpressed whenever they do this around me.

“My work isn’t done,” I say and watch the teacher for a reaction. “I believe there’re greater things afoot.”

He chuckles at me. “You always sound like you’re a hundred years old.”

“Do you like my tiara?” I ask and scrutinize him further.

“Not a style I would choose.” He gives a tight smile. “You want to be careful wearing something like that.”

“Why?” I ask, and a familiar buzz from clue discovery runs through me.

“Because that looks extremely valuable. Your mother’s?”

“No. Why?”

He shrugs. “Looks like an heirloom, that’s all.”

“You recognize it?” asks Rowan.

“No.” He lifts his chin at me. “Hopefully I’ll see you in class next week? Holly will appreciate your help. How is she after her fainting spell?”

“Such touching concern,” I say.

“She’s my student. It’s my job. Enjoy your evening.” Mr. Woodside dips his head and walks away.

I spin to Rowan. “I want you to tell me everything you know about Mr. Woodside.”

“Violet.” He sighs. “There’s nothing sinister in what he said. Or in his mind, I looked.”

“He noticed my tiara!” I protest.

“A lot of people noticed your tiara tonight. There’s a prediction you’ll stab someone with it by the end of the evening,” says Grayson.

“Honestly,” I mutter and focus on Mr. Woodside’s walk to the exit.

“Violet…” says Rowan in a warning voice as I unfasten the purse. “Can you not start making notes?”

“I’m not.” I pull out my phone. “I’d like to check for a message from Leif.” And make a note. “If he isn’t coming, I’m leaving.”

“Yeah.” Rowan nods towards the unmistakably large guy standing in the entrance, greeted by Ms. Lorcan the same way as everybody else. “About that.”

I swivel around. Leif.

40

VIOLET

“Is that what you’re whispering about?”

Without another thought, I rush across the space, then halt a hair’s breadth from him. Has Leif grown? Or am I merely accustomed to Grayson and Rowan’s smaller statures? The dark suit fits him better than his too-tight uniform and adds a mature air to him.

Leif opens his mouth to speak, and I place a hand on his chest, harder than intended, as he winces and stumbles backwards, bumping into a grumbling couple behind entering the hall. “Out,” I say.

Leif’s eyes glint. “Well, hello to you too, Violet.”

---