Page 59 of The Summer Show

I did do that.

“Does my face look any better yet?” I asked, feeling optimistic,

“You still look like a monkey’s kolos,” Irini One said.

“I should probably go,” I said. “I want to post my postcards before everything closes for today.”

“Take the onion with you,” Yiayia said.

twenty-two

My emotional support onion accompanied me to the tiny post office, where the postal worker eyed my postcards. He picked up my postcards one at a time and read them out loud.

“Is that necessary?”

“I have to make sure you are not smuggling ancient artifacts out of Greece.”

“They’re just postcards.”

He bit one to be sure.

Outside, I texted Marti.

Sterilize your postcard when it arrives.

Why?

Just … trust me.

People stared at me as I traversed the narrow, winding streets of Nera. Possibly because of my stint on GTH, but more likely because of the onions and bruises combo.

Around the next corner, a man called out to me.

“Kathleen Hart? You are Despinida Hart, yes?” For a small, boneless person, he was speedy as he zipped past me and blocked my path. “I need to talk, yes?” He looked around, ears flapping with the sudden movement. “Do you smell salad?”

“How about no,” I muttered.

“I work for a magazine. A very important one. Okay, maybe not that important but we are trying to become important and you can help us.”

I moved backwards and he moved with me.

“Leave me alone.”

“All I want is information from inside the show. My employer would pay you for this information. Not money, of course, because we do not have a lot of money yet, but we could give you a shop.”

That got my attention. Not because I wanted a shop but because I wondered who would give me a shop in exchange for information.

“Who are you?”

“Tomas Bakas. I am not from here. I work for a paper on Merope called the Merope Fores.” He had no chin but he overcompensated with overflowing audacity.

“I signed a contract, which means I can’t tell you anything even if I wanted to”

“You would be an off-the-record source. No one would ever know. Unless they bribed me. Money is money.”

“No.”

“Please?”

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