The Latterson List

Chapter Four - The Aftermath

Overnight, the weather had subsided. Furious clouds had melted away allowing the morning sky to blast out a pink-orange stain from the horizon. I drew back the curtains slowly so as not to wake up Tom who was still snoring quietly next to me.

I had woken up a few minutes before, and had checked my phone.

6:42.

I never did sleep well in other people's houses.

I wiped the sleep from my eyes, pulled on some of Tom's slippers and the same hoody I'd worn the night before. It had lost its 'Tom smell'. Shuffling quietly down the stairs, I made my way to the kitchen with the intention of making myself something warm and strong from the kettle.

That was, until the third member of this household decided it was time to play.

"Meow," said Helen. Helen. What an awful name for a cat. She leapt from under the table and grappled around my leg. It was a lot less painful than when she did it the first time I'd come into the house. She'd used claws then.

"Good morning!" I breathed in an uncomfortably high voice that one can only summon when communicating with cats.

Helen curled around my legs, rubbing her sides across my ankles as I made myself a cup of tea. Mrs Wilder always kept Yorkshire teabags in the cupboard. They were my favourite because they were strong enough to knock out a bull.

Ensuring the volume was on the lowest possible setting, I flicked on the radio.

"AAAAND I'm heading hooooooome-"

"Oh Lord, no," I flinched, shutting off the radio immediately. The terrifying pop screech was a new song called "Heartbreak Homebound", a truly terrible pop song. Last thing I needed was that tragedy ruining my morning.

Steaming cup in hand, I perched myself in the living room, picking my feet up from my slippers and tucking them under my legs. Helen bounced up from the floor and nuzzled her way into a comfy position over my lap, purring loud enough to disturb the neighbours.

I blew away the steam and took a shallow sip from my tea. And there is where I perched for a while, waiting for both of the Wilders to wake up, and never a single thought of any party entered my mind.

***

The sky remained a burning orange throughout the morning in the aftermath of the biggest storm in Hamset since records began. The devastation spared no one. Destruction ranged from knocking over Mrs Evans' garden gnome to blowing a twig on to Tom's front garden path.

I liked to arrive at school early. Like, early. There's a blissful calm that stretches over the place when most students are still pressing their snooze buttons.

Tom can't abide early mornings, but he valiantly speeds through his morning routine whenever I stay over so he can join me in my early arrival.

"Honestly, I can just meet you there," I'd say.

He'd bat one hand at me, while using the other to straighten out his beautiful curls. "I'm nearly done, I promise!"

We headed to my locker first, swapping out books I wouldn't need during the day for those I would. I narrowed my eyes at my French book like I could blame the whole Latterson invite fiasco on it.

Text books in our bags, Tom and I perched ourselves on a short mossy wall that ringed the courtyard between each of the school buildings. I pulled my sleeves over my hands to preserve some heat, and took in a deep sniff of the material. Mrs Wilder had used a fabric softener on my clothes akin to black magic as far as I was concerned. No other method would have rendered my school uniform this soft. It was like wearing that feeling you get when you play with a kitten.