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ticking,” he interrupted.
    She glared at him for a long moment, forced her teeth to unclench, then summoned the syrupy tone she sometimes used with old people and very young children. “And what brought you to Brookdale, Keegan?” she asked.
    “A plane. Perhaps you’ve heard of them. They’re a quaint means of transporta—”
    “Hilarious.” She’d had all she could take of this jerk and was about to get up and return to her seat when he spoke again.
    “My dad.”
    She didn’t get it. “What about him?”
    “The reason we’re in Brookdale. He got a job here.”
    “Must be quite the job to move you clear across the country.” When he didn’t respond, she asked, “What’s he do?”
    “He’s an accountant.”
    She wrote that down. “Where’s he work?”
    “At a car dealership.”
    “Where?”
    “Here in town.”
    “Brookdale has three,” she said. The Hyundai and Ford dealerships were her father’s only competitors in this part of the province.
    “Valley Motors.”
    Willa couldn’t hold back the satisfied smile that lit up her face, and she settled back in her chair, savouring the moment before offering, “Your dad works for mine.”
    “Time’s up,” Richardson announced at the end of the twenty minutes, and talk trickled away. “Who’d like to go first?”
    Willa expected to sit through an awkward pause, but Bailey Holloway put up her hand. “We will,” she said, glancing at her partner, who nodded in return.
    “Great,” said Richardson. “Why don’t you both come up here so everyone can see you.”
    The two girls walked to the front of the classroom. “This is Raven Powell,” said Bailey. “Raven’s a member of the Haida First Nation, and she’s just moved here with her parents from the West Coast. Her mother accepted a professorship at Acadia University, where she now teaches Aboriginal studies, and her father is a researcher for the federal government. Raven’s the youngest of four children and the only girl in her family. Her oldest brother is a woodcarver who specializes in totems, and one of his pieces stands on the grounds of the Parliament Buildings in Victoria. But he’s not the only artistic member of their family. Raven paints and plays guitar, but her first love is dance, and one day she hopes to perform with the National Ballet of Canada.”
    Smiling, Richardson clapped his hands, and others in the room joined him. “That was terrific, Bailey. And welcome to Brookdale, Raven.”
    “Thanks,” Raven smiled. Turning to her partner, she continued, “Now I have the pleasure of introducing Bailey Holloway …”
    Willa allowed her mind to drift. There wasn’t much about Bailey that she didn’t already know. Celia called her trailer trash, but that was harsh. It wasn’t Bailey’s fault that she andher younger sister and brother all had different fathers, none of whom had stayed around long. Her mother, Francine, worked in the hospital laundry, and Britney once joked how fitting it was that the woman spent her days cleaning sheets: “She’s a total mattress, right?” Willa figured Bailey would spend her whole life in Brookdale like her mother, and Celia had narrowed that forecast further, predicting that, like her mother, Bailey wouldn’t graduate before getting knocked up. She and Britney were even taking bets on the month it would happen.
    As Raven continued speaking, Willa grinned again at learning the new guy’s father worked for her dad. That little revelation had taken the wind out of his sails. He’d been a complete asshole up to that point, but he’d pulled his horns in once he found out who she was.
    She looked down at the notes she’d made and wondered what she was going to say about him when it was their turn. He hadn’t given her much to go on. One sibling, a younger brother. Both lived with their father. No mention of the mother, although Willa sensed she wasn’t in the picture. Divorced, probably. No surprise there if the dad had to come