Twenty-Two
The Glacier Cleaves
Already the major local news sites have picked up the story of a mass food-poisoning event on the “super-exclusive Thalia Island, built as a living experiment in search of a more sustainable way of life.”
And the comments on the online articles … I know better than to read the comments. Ever.
“We need to call the PR people handling this.”
“You are the PR people handling this.”
“No! Clarke Innovations has—where is Rupert?” I return Finan’s phone and stand in search of my own, though I’m still wobbly. Finan leaps to his feet, as if he’s going to catch me if I swoon. “I’m fine. I don’t need help.” It comes out nastier than I mean it to. “Sorry.”
He signals his surrender and sits again. I find my bag and dig through until I find my phone, dead, of course,
