Page 45 of The Rebound
Did you talk to your sister?
I slouch back on the cold metal chair, ignoring my mother’s texts as I skim through the latest batch of rejections. They all read exactly the same. But at least these are the ones who got back to me.
“Donate now to help our fight against ocean pollution!”
Nothing yet from Stewarts. Obviously I wouldn’t expect anything so soon but I still had a little bit of hope that everything might magically fall into place.
“Industrial fishing is destroying our waters!”
Maybe I could get a book deal. If Arnold could get a book deal, I could get a book deal. I just need an angle. Some kind of sexy commercial angle.
“Marine debris is killing our cetaceans!”
“What’s a cetacean?” I call, sorting my rejections into my rejection folder.
Louise doesn’t even turn around. “A whale.”
“So just say that.”
“Abby—”
“No one knows what a cetacean is.”
She shoots me a harassed look before turning back to the muddy field.
“Donate now to save a whale!” she calls, shouting to no one in particular. “For as little as fifteen euro a month you can help us raise enough money to buy a new boat to monitor our waters for sightings and strandings of these endangered creatures.”
An elderly woman covers her ears, glaring at us as she hurries past. I dump my phone back onto the table. I’m supposed to be keeping track of donations. Which I would happily do if there were any. “Louise?”
She ignores me, trying to get the attention of a young couple pushing a stroller. They smile politely at her with friendly “no thanks!” energy.
“Louise!”
“What!” she snaps.
“It’s not working. You need to be more emotive.”
“I didn’t ask for your help.”
“You literally asked for my help this morning.”
“With setting up the stall. I know what I’m doing.”
“We’ve been here for two hours and you haven’t signed up a single person. And fifteen euros is not a little amount. Make it three and you’ll get ten times as many people.”
“I said I didn’t ask for your—”
“Who wants juice?” Tomasz ducks under the flap with a tray of wheatgrass shots in his hands. “I took as many samples as I could without it being weird.” He glances between the two of us as Louise turns stiffly away. “What happened?”
“I talked to her,” I sigh as he hands me a shot.
“I told you not to do that.”
“I can hear you,” Louise says.
Tomasz grins at me and settles into the other chair.
We’re at the Easter Fun Day. Or to use its proper title, the Clonard Easter Family Fun Day.
