Page 33 of For Dear Life

Chase continues to snicker at us. “Must be awkward being ‘friends’ with a mind reader, Leif.”

Violet steps forward, ball between her hands as if she held a soccer ball not the heaviest one possible to choose from. She flicks her tongue against her teeth. “At least Leif actually has a mind to read. Yours is rather empty, Chase.” She pauses and her eyes widen slightly. “Actually, I can see something.” Violet places hands either side of the ball and holds it above his shoes. “You plan to use magic on Holly so that she’ll remove her clothes.” The ball slips slightly in Violet’s hands, and Chase attempts to move his feet.

He swears when they won’t budge.

“I hope nothing happens to injure your feet and end the evening before the fun even begins,” she says, deadpan.

“Bullshit,” Chase replies, but his eyes dart between the ball and his feet. “I wouldn’t do that to Holly.”

“That’s why I’m here,” says Marci quietly. “Chase has a reputation.”

“What the fuck?” he snaps.

“You’re here to protect Holly?” asks Violet evenly, switching her attention. I don’t miss Chase’s relieved look as the magic breaks and he jumps to his feet.

“Partially. We’re close friends, Violet. I look out for her.”

The two regard each other again. Uncomfortable atmospheres between Violet and others are common, but there’s something odd here, especially when Marci gives her a sweet smile and stands to take her turn bowling.

Did Violet detect the pointedness of Marci’s comment?

Holly flops onto the squeaky red bench, her mouth-turned down. I glance up at the screen. “Ouch. You only hit three.”

“I’d like some fries,” she says to Chase, ignoring me.

Chase leans across the space and plants a kiss on Holly’s mouth, who watches him as he leaves to order, her eyes filled with delight.

Violet continues to stare at the back of Marci’s head. “You shouldn’t be friends with these people, Holly,” she announces and drops the ball with a thud into the row of returned ones.

“Why?” asks Holly.

“I don’t like them,” she says simply. Jon scoffs, and she throws him a look. “The witches, not you. I’ve seen you around the academy. You’re innocuous.”

“In what?”

Violet’s eyes close, and she shakes her head. “Insipid.”

Jon looks to me for help. “She means harmless,” I offer.

“No, I don’t. I mean that he’s innocuous and insipid.” Violet makes a soft, derisive sound and looks away.

“You don’t tell me who I can and can’t be friends with,” retorts Holly. “At least I’m safe with Marci when not sharing a room with Dorian’s psychopathic daughter.”

Violet’s lips thin and she glances at Marci now standing behind Holly, who gives another saccharin smile.

“Sorry, Violet. I didn’t mean that. I don’t know why I said those things.”

“I do,” says Violet, pointedly looking at Marci.

Oh, hell. We’re here five minutes and the evening’s already descending into Violet-level animosity.

“Holly feels threatened by you, Violet,” says Marci as she returns.

“Is this true, Holly?” Violet replies.

“I think you’re up, Violet,” I say and point at the screen that’s awaiting her score.

“Up what?” she asks.

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