Chapter 13

A tiny elderly woman with wild white hair and watery blue eyes totters toward them clutching a camera in wrinkled, bony fingers. She is beaming with excitement, and if Emily weren't so annoyed with her she would be worried that she might fall over into the sand. She gives a little wave when she finally arrives, practically shaking with eagerness.

"Hah! I can't believe I'm really meeting you, and up close too!" she warbles. Seeming to realize how rude she's being, or at least Emily hopes so, she sticks out a pruny hand. "Oh, where are my manners? Margaret Finch, professional photographer."

"Emily." Emily says tersely. Honestly, whenever she tries to get away from all this nonsense it just crops up again. Victor only looks uncomfortable, but he tightens his arm around her all the same, which is a little comforting.

"Goodness, I really can't believe that I'm looking at my last big story! I'd given up so long ago, and now after all these years, I was right!"

Margaret is bouncing on her heels, clearly unable to contain herself. She's also being unbelievably loud, and others are beginning to stare. Emily makes an attempt to hush her.

"Yes, yes, that's all very well, but please," Emily sighs. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"Let me interview you!"

Emily pales, recalling her last "interview", body freezing. "What?"

"Okay, that's enough." Victor says, his voice cracking a little. "Emily, just go back to the towels and I'll try to sort this out."

Emily limps back to Victoria and Bonejangles, still stiff with shock. No, no more interviews. She can't go through that again, never!

x

Margaret, still clueless, follows Emily with a concerned gaze, which then flickers back to Victor. "Is she going to be alright?"

Victor steps out of the water, no longer confident to test his endurance. "She'll be fine. She's just been through a lot." He fiddles with his fingers, unsure of how to proceed. "I don't think talking to her would be such a great idea."

"Oh, I understand completely." Margaret says. "I'm just so excited to be in the presence of a miracle! I can come by, maybe in a week, when all this press dies down. I wish I'd gotten ahold of her first, seeing as that Collin fellow can't write to save his skin. This could be what launches me back into the journalism business! Don't get me wrong, I love photography, but I miss writing even more, and…"

The more Margaret rambles, the more irritated with her Victor grows. It just doesn't stop. All these people just see Emily as pounds, free for the taking! They don't see the person; they only see the profit! Emily doesn't deserve this!

Enough is enough.

"Shut up!" Victor shouts, throwing his arms up in the air. Seeing the wounded expression on Margaret's face, he backs off a little. "Look, what you and Collin are doing is awful on both accounts. Why do you have to put her up for everyone to gawk at? Why can't you just let her live in peace?"

Margaret sighs, her ancient body shaking a little with the intake. "Believe me, I would if I could, but I don't think you understand what you have here. Emily is a miracle, and you shouldn't keep miracles a secret from the world."

Victor searches her eyes for any malice, any form of deception or insincerity, and finds none. He relaxes a little, but still keeps his guard up. "Well, I still don't like the idea of her being put on display. Who's going to stop others from trying to discover her secret? Even I don't know what it is. It was something that just happened. She's already been kidnapped once; I don't want it to happen again."

Margaret frowns. "Again?"

"How do you think Collin got that information?"

A sort of frost passes into Margaret's eyes. "He did what? Well, that's outrageous! I mean, honestly, there are ways to do these things that doesn't involve harming innocent people! The nerve of him! Really, has he got no —"

"Anyway," Victor says, cutting off another long rambling session. "That's why we went out today, to get away from all of this. We might even have to move away if there are more people like you."

Margaret flushes an angry red. "More people like me? I am nothing like those pathetic fanboys out there who want nothing more than to extort Emily for all she's worth." she says, stepping up to Victor, who, despite her tiny stature, is forced to back up a little and stares at her, wide-eyed. "All I want is to put some beauty into this world, to show how wonderful life is. I'll admit, my past work hasn't exactly reflected that, but I've changed much since then. So don't you dare compare me to those awful people!"

x

Bonejangles glances over. "What's goin' on over there?"

Emily follows his gaze. "I think Victor is being told off by that woman."

Victoria clicks into another tab. "Wouldn't be the first time. I'd say we all had a go at it at least once."

x

Victor puts his hands up in defense. "Okay, okay, sorry!" he says quickly. "But I still don't think it'd be a good idea to interview her after what happened last time."

Margaret cools slightly. "Have you reported him?"

"N-no."

"Well, why not? That would completely discredit his story and stop all this nonsense."

Victor can't understand why Margaret can't see herself as part of the nonsense, since she's as eager to get her hands on Emily as Collin was.

"Then we can publish the real account once he's locked up."

Victor nearly groans. "You still want to publish her story?" This wouldn't stop the nonsense, in fact, it would only add to it because it'd be true! How would this help at all?

"Again, why not?" Margaret repeats. "The story is already out there; Emily is already getting unwanted attention. Why not at least tell the truth? I want to help you, not hurt you."

Victor doesn't have an answer. He can't argue with that.

"Can you really help us?"

"Yes."

Well, why not?

"All right then."

x

Fired.

Collin can't believe it.

He had received the phone call early this morning, a day after his brilliant story had been published…

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Collin rolled out of bed and grabbed his phone out from beneath his pillow. The caller ID simply said "BOSS" underneath an image of a balding, sour-faced skeleton of a man. Gunner refused to let him call him anything else. Collin hit the green answer key and tried to sound as wide awake as possible.

"Hello?"

"You're in a hell of a lot o' trouble, Percival."

Collin froze at the growl of Gunner's voice. That couldn't be good.

"Ya figur wot ya dun yet? Or do I haf ta spell it out for ya?"

Collin swallowed, a hard lump passed through his throat. "I'm not clear, boss."

"Ya ficka fan I pegged ya for, fen." There was a deep sigh on the other end of the phone. "Ya publish'd hogwash, Percival. D'ya know wot 'appens wen ya publish hogwash?"

Collin braced himself.

"YA GET CANNED!"

Collin can still hear Gunner's roar echoing in his ears, long after the event. Clasping his hands over them hadn't helped.

He doesn't know what he'll do now. His career is over. Get blacklisted by The City Shuttle, get blacklisted by the entire world of press. He sits on his hands to stop them from shaking, simply staring at the wall across his bed. He needs to calm down, find a different path, reroute.

BAM!

Barkis barges into his room, letting the door smack against the wall.

"ALRIGHT COLLIN, YOU'VE PUBLISHED YOUR BLOODY STORY, NOW WHAT'S THE—" he halts his tirade, fixing his gaze on Collin's broken figure. His tone changes, softening. "What's the matter, my boy?" he asks, sitting beside him on the bed and laying a fatherly hand on Collin's shoulder.

Collin nearly flinches away, but then realizes: Barkis is all he has left. His career in the writing business is essentially shot, so what else is there? Barkis is the only one that has stayed, that has come through for him. Barkis is the one that helped him realize his dream, even though it was destroyed a moment ago. He should tell him everything.

"I got fired." he mumbles.

Barkis gasps. "No! Why?"

"For my story."

There's a pause. Then:

"It's not your fault. It's theirs."

Images of Victor and Emily and Bonejangles flash into Collin's memory. It is their fault. If Emily hadn't gotten away, he would have had more time to gather more data, to solidify his story. They had ruined him.

"What should I do?"

Barkis produces a knife from his coat pocket. The silver blade glimmers wickedly, a perfect temptation.

"What do you think?"