The Latterson List

Chapter Six - The Detention

When knowing Tom, it is important to remember one of his key turn ons. White vest tops. And we're not just talking 'makes him a little bit excited' turn on. We're talking how felines react to catnip. Popeye to spinach. It's like a magnet. So whenever there's a woman in a white vest top strutting about, Tom's attention is lost to it like a sandcastle to the waves.

Dr Coates wore a lab coat. I don't really know why she did all of the time because she hardly dissected animals on a daily basis. At the moment, we were talking about mitochondria. A really effective use of my time. I mean, instead of giving me a lesson about how to get a mortgage or effective insurance buying, it's a much better idea to teach me mitosis of the cells.

But my issues with the education system aside, Dr Coates wore a lab coat. And underneath it, inevitably, she wore a white vest. The only class Tom was failing was biology, and I don't think it was entirely coincidental.

"Look at how everything moves when she turns to the whiteboard and back," Tom said, dreamily. Our teacher was addressing a small group of students at the front of her class about the specific details of their homework. The rest of the class and us were left to crunch through a work sheet about membranes.

"When you say 'everything'...?"I asked, not looking up.

"I mean the good bits, yes," Tom beamed. His worksheet was entirely untouched.

Surprisingly, I'd managed to plough through a considerable chunk of my work. It had taken me a long while to find any concentration at all. Not only was the prospect of the Latterson Party always dogging my heels, but now I had Tom's head hunt to worry about, and Miss Isla's black eye too. The idea that either of them could be in any sort of trouble made me uneasy.

And it was when I was focussing my attention on a question about cell walls that someone grabbed an enormous chunk of my hair.

"See, at least his hair is slightly wavey. I can do something with that," said some girl. Who thinks it's literally okay to grab whole chunks of hair.

"Ow, um. Excuse me. Ow." I articulated. The mysterious entity currently holding my head hostage circled the desk to come face to face with me. She was really, really pretty. Smokey eyes, thick lips, a completely shaved head, and a concentration etched into her face.

"You have really great lips," she said.

I yanked my hair free from the assailant. "Excuse me, who the hell are you?"

I glanced at Tom who had paid exactly zero attention to this barbaric behaviour.

My attacker seemed entirely unfazed by my outburst, but instead stroked my chin with the back of her fingers. "Did you not get my note?"

The penny dropped.

"...you're King?" I exclaimed, flinching back from all this physical contact. I was already starting to sweat.

"What did you expect?" King said, rolling her eyes. "An actual monarch?"

I elbowed Tom in the ribs. He shook his head like waking from a dream. "Oh, hey Capria."

"You know her," I half whispered.

"Yeah she's on the Latterson List," Tom tutted like every person in the English speaking language should have known that.