Free Sink: The Lost World by Perrin Briar Page A

you carry on with what you were saying.”
    “No, it’s okay,” Zoe said, pointedly not looking at Cassie.
    Bryan glared at Cassie, who had a small smile.
    “How about you, Aaron?” Bryan said. “Do you have any favorite subjects at school?”
    “History and biology,” Aaron said.
    “Ah, a history buff, ay?” Bryan said. “What are you studying at the moment?”
    “The civil war,” Aaron said.
    “One of our key moments in our history,” Bryan said.
    “And our bloodiest,” Aaron said. “Did you know an estimated seven hundred fifty thousand people died during that war? Back then it was about twenty percent of our whole population.”
    “Freedom and development has its costs,” Bryan said.
    “I’m not sure if there was much development,” Aaron said.
    “What do you mean?” Bryan said. “We had to force ourselves out from under the yoke of King George III, to a king that had never visited our shores and never would. Why should we be beholden to anyone but ourselves?”
    It was clearly a passionate subject for Bryan. Aaron didn’t bat an eyelid. He was too busy trying to recall the crazy comments he’d memorized from the web.
    “I admit the Constitution was a big leap forward, but look at us today,” he said. “Capitalism has hijacked our society.”
    “Capitalism leads society,” Bryan said.
    “There’s a bigger rich/poor divide in America than many developing countries,” Aaron said. “How do you explain that except for capitalism? The rich get richer, the poor get poorer.”
    “You’re a child,” Bryan said. “When you grow up and start working, I’ll happily have this discussion with you.”
    Zoe laid her hand on Bryan’s arm. He pulled away, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb. He didn’t touch his food again.
    Cassie put down her fork.
    “I’m stuffed!” she said.
    “Stuffed?” Bryan said. “You’ve hardly eaten anything.”
    “It’s very filling,” Cassie said. “Help yourself, if you want.”
    Zoe looked at the plates of wasted food and wrinkled her nose. Cassie smiled. It was a strike. Zoe, like Bryan, detested waste, for her with food in place of time. She was a great humanitarian, who sent a good percentage of her pay check each week to far flung nations populated by hungry people.
    Aaron tossed his fork down on his plate too.
    “I think I ordered the wrong thing,” he said.
    Bryan rolled his eyes.
    “What wrong thing?” Zoe said. “You like lasagna.”
    “Yeah, but I wanted the Bolognese,” Aaron said.
    “You said you didn’t want it because you had it the other day,” Zoe said.
    “You can have some of mine, if you like,” Bryan said. “I know it’s not Bolognese, but if you close your eyes when you chew on the meat you can pretend it’s a meatball.”
    “I’d rather have real Bolognese,” Aaron said.
    “What are we supposed to do with your lasagna?” Zoe said.
    “You can have some of Cassie’s food,” Bryan said. “She’s got plenty to share.”
    “None of it’s Bolognese though…” Aaron said.
    Cassie reached for her drink, but her hand was greasy with gravy and it slipped out of her grip, smashed on the table cloth and spilled over Zoe’s dress.
    Zoe stood up, pushing her chair back, and bumped into a waiter, who was carrying a silver tray full of meals. He fell forward onto the table behind them, onto a pair of female diners, the food staining their expensive dresses. The women erupted into screams. The other diners arched their necks to see what was happening.
    Bryan was up on his feet in an instant, apologizing to the female diners and offering to pay for their meal as well as to replace their dresses.
    Cassie and Aaron, the only ones not standing, shared a smile and tucked into their meals.

15
     
     
    The atmosphere in the limousine was somewhat less jovial than the one on the way to the restaurant. Bryan opened his mouth several times to initiate a conversation, but was each time shot down by a frosty glance from Zoe.
    The