Millie had very definitely been taken.
Or well, not definitely at all. But she was late, and that was more than enough ammunition to put Evie’s nerves on end. It was silly, she knew. Irrational, even. Things were fine. Bordering on normal even. Bordering because one could never truly feel normal wearing gloves all year round. But it was winter, there was a chill in the air, and everything was fine.
Except that it wasn’t because she had been waiting for Millie out front of Coal Hill Academy for ten minutes now and she was nowhere to be seen. There was definitely going to be a chat about good manners when they got home.
(If they ever got home. That taken theory was still gnawing at the back of her mind.)
With her head held high in determination, she made her way up to the entrance, through the doors, and straight up to the first person she saw.
“Sorry, don’t mean to be a bother but was supposed to meet my daughter out front,” she paused to check her watch, “Approximately,” exactly, “Eleven minutes ago. Don’t suppose you’ve seen her. Millie. Smith. Looks like me but shorter,” a beat, “and tardy,” she finished, gesturing to her own face, which was admittedly more intense than strictly necessary. She cleared her throat and gave a half shrug, not wanting to come off as a completely overprotective parent, even if she probably was. “She’s got ballet.”
