Chapter 22 · Miss Cole

"Miss Cole?" the teacher called out, and a voice that wasn't mine answered first.

"She's here."

I stopped dead in the classroom doorway, folder of Maya's report card still in my hand, and there he was. Cade Vane. Sitting in the tiny plastic chair built for a six-year-old's parent, knees jammed up near his chest, looking like he owned the room instead of squeezed into it.

"What are you doing here." It wasn't a question. My voice came out flat, low, the kind of flat you use so the other parents filing in behind you don't hear it shake.

"Same as you." He stood up, and the chair scraped the floor like a gunshot. "Parent night."

Mrs. Alvarez, Maya's teacher, looked between us with the polite, terrified smile of someone who has walked into a custody war she did not sign up for. "Mr. Vane got here a little early," she said. "He said he's on the contact sheet now?"

"He's not," I said.

"I am, actually." Cade reached into his jacket, unhurried, like he had all night, like every second I stood there burning was free entertainment. "Updated it myself. Two weeks ago."

"You updated Maya's school file.