morning they’d risen so exponentially he hadn’t had time for anything else.
Deep inside he was worried he couldn’t solve this. That, even as an important man used to seeing his words turn into actions, this was a place where he was powerless, and that lack of power might mean his son would come to harm. He couldn’t quite come out and say those words, not even to himself. So he went on speaking as if he held power here, like everywhere else.
“Ms. Cuevas, if you’re listening, my name is Arthur Pierce, CEO of...”
Seeing Kenji approach, Marisa sighed. “Is he always like this?”
“Every second of the day, from what I gather,” Celeste answered for him.
“How the hell did you turn out to be so laid-back?” Marisa asked Kenji.
There was a joke in here, surely. Some sarcastic response. He shrugged. “I, uh, have to tell you something,” Kenji said. His father’s muffled voice continued to ring out across the field and through the building. “My dad is in charge of Lokoloko.” There was the occasional whine of feedback as other parents got antsy to have their turn and accidentally pressed the trigger on their megaphones.
* * *
Marisa laid her head back against the doors. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t think it would help. He doesn’t listen to me. All he does is say no.”
Right on cue, as if someone was turning up the volume on his megaphone, they could hear him continuing on his tirade. “...and if you think this tantrum will intimidate important men like myself, you are sorely mistaken. I’ve read your ridiculous demands...”
“Well, at least I was right when I guessed that a CIS parent was involved in the project,” Marisa said, and it sounded like, for the first time since the whole fiasco began, her voice threatened to break. “You know, that was what led me to do this whole thing in the first place. That site.” Just as she said it, she realized her mangled leg would keep her from the reefs for weeks or months to come. The next time she’d be able to snorkel or dive in the area, it might already be too late. The toxic runoff would’ve begun, the world would’ve inched however many days closer to the turning point, the oceans’ acidification would’ve increased. She may have seen those greens, oranges and purples for the last time.
“God,” Marisa said, closing her eyes. “Maybe I should just open up. Just take the wins I got and go home to take a normal freaking shower and sleep in my bed again.”
“Hospital, Marisa,” Kenji said. “I think you mean take a normal shower at the hospital.”
“I know that’s not our fearless leader I hear talking about giving up.” Peejay approached from the staircase. Omar Ng was at his side. “Plus, don’t pretend you were completely hating those sponge baths Amira was helping you with.”
At Marisa’s furious blushing and the others’ scandalized looks, Peejay threw the pashmina over his head. “The depressed one sees all.” Then he slid the pashmina back around his shoulders, followed with a defensive palm raised up. “Not all, mind you. I averted my eyes and let Amira ogle you on her own. A voyeur I may be, but I try not to toe the line into creepiness.”
* * *
Marisa blushed on, wondering how much they’d all noticed, or if it was just Peejay. She blushed, too, with the memory of those baths, though they hadn’t really been baths. Amira would bring her a bucket (not that one) filled with warm soap water and help her set up her curtain (a bedsheet procured from Marisa’s duffel bag, brought in anticipation of the privacy she’d need). It hadn’t ever been part of the plan: Marisa had prepared to suffer; she was definitely prepared to stink. But Amira had offered. It’d only been twice.
At first Amira had given her her privacy, left to go on a run or something. But she’d come back surprisingly early, staying just beyond the curtain, keeping Marisa company. Neither was sure how exactly that had happened, but neither had called attention to it, either, afraid to break the spell of normalcy it came with.
As uncomfortable as Marisa was in that moment, as defeated as she felt looking at those twenty-four uncrossed demands and the zero bars on her cell phone, Peejay was right, the baths at home wouldn’t compare to the thrill of having Amira nearby, reaching timidly over the curtain with her eyes averted to offer the