Page 164 of Cherish

The article is followed by the exuberant birthday party of a seven-year-old boy in Berlin.

Which is followed by a patient in a hospital in Equatorial Guinea getting infected with Marburg virus disease.

Massive flooding in a young family’s basement in Istanbul leaves them homeless.

And a large chunk of the Antarctic ice shelf is breaking off.

And literally a million other things, just on my wall of TV screens. Macy’s more than got her hands full with her two walls, as well.

And there is nothing we can do about any of it except to keep writing, writing, writing.

My hand is already aching, and I feel like I’m getting further and further behind.

Macy gasps at something on her TVs, and I take a second to glance around in a desperate attempt to figure out where my phone has fallen. Because if we don’t get some help soon, we’re going to end up drowning…and I’m pretty sure the Curator won’t be in any mood to bargain if we end up imploding her entire system.

Unfortunately, the time I take looking for the phone only puts me further behind. Screens flash by, and I didn’t have a chance to look at any of them. I only have a second to hope I haven’t missed anything too important before I have to start writing again, andI still haven’t found my damn phone!

Regardless, someone needs to record the data on the newest viral outbreak, so I guess my phone will have to wait. As will the help we’re all so desperate for.

But just as I start to write down the latest numbers, the secret bookshelf door swings open. And Flint is standing there, holding a tray of coffee, with the rest of my friends behind him.

“Anyone need a coffee break?”

87

Su-Shi’s

All That

“Coffee break?” Macy shrieks, looking away from her screens for what I’m pretty sure is the very first time. “No one has time for coffee here!”

“Whoa,” Flint says, putting the coffee tray next to me on the desk. “Someone’s a little grumpy.”

“Not grumpy—desperate,” I tell him, not taking my eyes from the aftermath of the mass shooting in Florida that has my stomach clenching and tears burning in the back of my eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Jaxon lifts a brow. “Umm, we can leave if you’d prefer.”

“Please God, no. Don’t do that!” Macy all but whimpers.

“The Curator stopped by the veranda a couple of minutes ago on her way out and told us you’d traded a little work for helping Mekhi and said you might need some help.” Hudson looks from me to Macy. “Apparently she’s a master of understatement.”

“You have no idea,” I answer as I record the name of the player who makes the last goal in a hugely popular Vietnamese soccer game. “Can you go in that room over there and grab more journals? Then pick a section of TVs and start to record?”

“This place is completely badass,” Jaxon says from where he’s watching a section of black-and-white screens. “Do these TVs really show everything going on around the world right now?”

“Everything,” I reiterate. “They go from grayscale to color on important events.”

“Badass,” he breathes again.

“You don’t need to sound so impressed,” Heather snaps as she continues to write. “Just go get the fucking journals and start helping out. Or, I swear, I’ll leave you to it all on your own.”

“Hey.” Eden walks behind her and starts rubbing her shoulders. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Really?” She thrusts her free hand at the TV. “A sailboat is sinking in a storm in the middle of the Pacific, and no one is picking up their calls for help. That whole family is going to be in thewaterin the middle of astormin less than ten minutes, and no one is going to know they’re there. So, tell me, how exactly is that okay?”

She breaks down then, ugly sobs ripping through her as she—once again—continues to write even through her tears.

“Hey, hey.” Eden wraps her arms around her from behind and hugs her close. “Take a second. Take a few breaths.”

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