realize it’s a term I’ve often used to describe us and them. ‘Us’ being the top one percent of the wealthy, and ‘them’ being the rest. A false laugh leaves my throat. “You know what I’m doing there.”
I wish I hadn’t ever told her. For the first time, I see the danger in letting someone as nasty and as evil as Jessica—someone who hates Kyra with a passion—in on this little secret of mine. I lean in and put my lips to her ear. “I hope I can trust you to keep this to yourself.”
“You disappoint me, Brandon. I was hoping for some gossip on the girl, but you haven’t given me any juicy tidbits on her.”
“Don’t be silly, Jessica. There are no juicy things for me to bring back to you.”
“No gossip?”
“None.”
“None?”
“It’s purely work, and boring work, at that. There is nothing to relay back to you.”
Chapter Nineteen
KYRA
“We could write to more corporations,” Brad suggests.
We’re discussing how to get more sponsors, how to get our message out. This is something I consider myself to be good at, and we’ve done well so far, but I’m interested to hear what Brad has to say, since he claims he’s a know-it-all.
“We already do that.”
“You should do the small and personal approach. Meet people in person. Cultivate relationships.”
“We already do that.”
“Then it sounds as if you’re doing all the right things. You could go big and take out an ad in the paper.”
I laugh, because his idea is so ludicrous. “You want us to pay an exorbitant amount of money for an ad? In the newspaper, or on a billboard, or in a glossy magazine, or maybe a TV ad? Which is it?” I’m shocked that he’s suggested a crazy solution.
“It’s not so strange. You want to attract the big donors. Get the eyes of the big corporates. This is the way to do it.”
“Dude, people would think we’re throwing money away. We’re not a corporation,” Fredrich says.
I scowl at Brad in disbelief because what he’s suggesting is so insanely wrong, I can’t believe he had the audacity to suggest it. Everything I started to assume about him begins to dismantle. He catches my tight expression.
“Your idea doesn’t make sense,” I tell him.
I hear a noise, like something scraping, like lots of sand falling, an out-of-place noise that alerts my sixth sense. We all stare upwards, and then WHAM! Brad comes at me like a bull, hurling himself at me. My chair topples over and I scream as we fall to the floor. His hand cushions the floor before my head hits it. Something dull and chunky thuds to the floor directly at the spot where my chair had been.
It happens so fast that I forget to breathe.
“What the—” Fredrich jumps to standing, Simona too. They help us to get up. Miraculously, I’m not hurt despite being bulldozed to the floor in my chair. The armrests saved me from taking the full brunt of Brad’s body weight. He stands up slowly, surveys me lying on the floor, and offers me his hand. Then he helps me to stand.
Dazed, I look up at the ceiling, then at the floor. Shock holds me frozen to the spot.
“A chunk of plaster,” Fredrich cries, walking over and prodding it gently with his foot. It’s a hefty chunk. . “You’re lucky it missed your head.”
Simona stares at it. “That could have killed you.” She looks as worried as if it had happened.
“He saved your life, looks like,” Fredrich announces.
“Thank goodness for your quick reflexes,” Simona adds in. They are both singing Brad’s praises.
“Are you hurt?” I ask him, slowly shaking out of my shock bubble. There is too much to process all at once: Brad’s side tackle, the plaster from the ceiling, the fact that I could have been so badly—fatally even—injured.
But also the feel of him against me. The firm yet soft feel of his hand as my head smacked against it. Everything except my heart rate slow-motioned. I caught a whiff of his cologne—clean and fresh with a hint of pine, it took me out of this damp-smelling room and led me to a field of flowers. Even now, my heart flutters just thinking about it.
He saved my life.
I reach for his hand shakily, gratitude washing over me as I turn his palm over in my hands. He lets me. “Does it hurt? Can you move your fingers?” I examine both sides of it carefully. He flexes his fingers.
“It’s all working. Can I have it