How About Seven? ✔

13. Fire Nation

"Alright class, if you look at page 394 you will see the exercises for this chapter. That is your homework - and yes Scarlett, you are expected to do all. Hand in your books on Wednesday. Class dismissed."

I stood up distractedly along with the rest of the students, my mind still on the weekend. I had called father and got the name of a "friend", who I gave Keegan Hood's particulars to. He explained that running it was like running the license plate of a car, except he had to do it less-than-legally. It would take three days, and then he would give me a list. As in a complete list of Keegan's daily activites - who were his friends, who did he knew, and what did he do at what time of the day. He would also be checking out for any recent activities Keegan did that deviated from the norm. 

Yesterday night Samson - the friend - called back. He said he hadn't gotten everything yet, but what he could tell me at the moment was that Keegan was married to a woman named Eliza, who worked in marketing, and they had one son named Kaylan. They were a typical rich family, and Kaylan was the typical image of boy gone bad to crave busy parents' attention. I texted father the simplified version of the information I had so far gained.  

It was Monday, and my mind was figuring out all the information I had gotten last night. Eric had only said unmarked third party involved, and didn't give me a number. The entire family of three could be in it together. The father was a criminal lawyer. The son had a high chance of being Storeroom Stalker. The mother was in marketing......maybe she sold Black and Tan merchandise? I could just imagine it now. T-shirts and cups with the design

As the class filed out the teacher called my name. "Miss Banner, can you wait for awhile please? And you too Mr Winston." 

I winced a little. I had a feeling I knew what the teacher was going to say. I stood next to the door as all the students walked past and out of the room. Another boy was hanging behind too, sitting at his desk, and I guessed correctly that this was Mr Winston. 

His brown hair was soft and curly, tousled in a way that managed to look neat at the same time. His glasses were square black frames, and he was wearing a blue-white plaid shirt. He had that constant frozen-deer-in-the-headlights look.

As he got up from his chair the hem of his shirt caught the table and he was jerked backwards, losing his balance and collapsing in a heap back on his seat, his books falling out of his arms. Hastily he made to lean down and get them but his hem was still stuck and he was tugged backwards again. He finally freed it and bend down to retrieve his books, only to knock his head when coming back up. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "By Zeus' thunderbolt".

I stifled a snort of laughter. All in all, your standard image of a nerdy klutz. He was the kind that went unnoticed, that blended into the background. One of the invisible ones. I would not have  noticed him too, if I weren't trained to remember faces.

He shuffled over to the teacher's desk, glanced at me once and looked away. Awkward silence commenced. The teacher closed the door behind the last student and sat down at his desk.