Catch me a miss

trary to popular belief, he did have some manners. But he was almost certainly failing. Still, he supposed it didn’t really matter. Chris Tabary, the source o

once per year—” “Aside from the national tests, you mean?” “Precisely. Every September, we undertake school-wide testing to ensure that our most elite intellectuals are separated from the other students.” Ruben’s alarm bells were not simply ringing; they were screaming. “By testing,” he said carefully, “you refer to… ah… examination? In a room?” At Tabary’s slight frown, he added, “My English. You understand.” Ruben’s English was perfect, courtesy of three years studying at the University of Edinburgh. But surely he must be misunderstanding here? Surely Tabary did not insist on extra testing just to create some kind of intelligence-based class system in his school? Tabary offered a benevolent smile. “Well, yes, examinations. The students are taken into a room and asked to complete a question paper in silence. Then we mark the papers… et voila!” He chuckled. Ruben nodded along politely. Mentally, he was planning the easiest way to extract himself from this situation. Rosewood Academy was not an appropriate contender for the scholarship programme he planned to create. Excessive testing was something Ruben disapproved of anyway, but sending the children that his Trust catered to—children of disadvantagedbackgrounds and unique needs—to a school that openly referred to better-testing students as elite… Demetria would be so smug when she found out about this. Hadn’t she told him to stop accepting applicants based on nothing but social network

earth. Had the man no fucking sense? “This is a very important meeting,” Tabary continued. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” the woman said, her tone dripping with apology. But Ruben had the strangest impression that she wasn’t sorry at all. Then, for the first time since she’d come in, her eyes flitted over to his. And he realised that beautiful was an understatement. Her face was almost unnaturally perfect. For one disturbing moment he was reminded of his sister—but Sophronia’s beauty was cold. So fucking cold. This woman might burst into flame at any moment. She slapped a stack of papers on Tabary’s desk a

when offered the chance to correct a supposedly stupid woman. His annoyance forgotten, he handed the papers back with a fond smile. “Off you go, Cherry, dear. I am in the middle of something.” The woman straightened up, clutching the papers to her chest. Her eyes settled on Ruben with exaggerated surprise, as if she’d only just noticed his presence. And he knew instantly that she’d orchestrated this entire thing. “Oh, gosh,” she said. “How rude of me.” And then, skirting around Tabary’s desk, she stepped right up to him and held out a hand, and said: “Cherry Neita.” Cherr

let go. No, his newly animalistic mind whispered. Never let her go. Hm. His mind was starting to sound like a stalker. Ruben released her, trying not to make his reluctance obvious. “What is it you do here, Ms. Neita?” He imagined she’d make an excellent teacher. Her class wouldn’t know what’d hit them. But God, if he’d ever had a tutor like her… “I’m in HR,” she said, shattering his fantasies. “A