Robin Jarvis-Jax 02 Freax And Rejex by Robin Jarvis Read Free Book Online

if they even wanted to. They looked so withdrawn and unwilling to make eye contact with one another.
    Kate was moved in the same way the grieving families of Gaza, Baghdad and Haiti had moved her when she reported from there. But she was a veteran at detachment. She had an important job to do and she trusted Sam to capture and linger on the children’s frightened, damaged expressions. It would make striking footage.
    “Hi,” she began quickly. “My name is Kate and I’m a reporter for American TV. This scruffy guy with the camera is Sam. You don’t have to be scared of us. We’re your friends. We haven’t read that book. We haven’t tasted that minchet stuff. We’re on your side.”
    Someone at the back hissed through his teeth. Kate looked over to where a pair of Nike trainers poked between two headrests, but whoever it was had slouched too far down and she couldn’t see who they belonged to.
    “If I could have a few words with some of you,” she continued, fiercely aware that this precious time alone with them was limited. She was amazed no one had already come running in after her to shepherd the children out. A cursory glance through the window told her the Ismus was being mobbed by the kids’ parents and his bodyguards were being kept very busy. Good.
    “Please, Miss,” a girl of seven near the front piped up in a timid whisper. “I’ve been sick.”
    Kate went over to her. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” she asked.
    “Puke-arella!” a boy of twelve said before she had a chance to answer.
    The girl’s face crumpled, but she didn’t cry.
    Kate glared at the boy. “Hey, watch your mouth, wise-ass,” she told him.
    The boy looked up at her with an anguished, jumbled expression of gratitude and helplessness on his face. Then he burst into tears. That one rebuke was the most normal interaction he’d had in the past few months. Kate bit the inside of her cheek. Dear God, this was tough. These poor kids were totally messed up and traumatised.
    “It’s OK,” she told him in a gentler tone. “You’re going to be all right. My report is going to show the whole of America what’s happening here. You’ll be fine. I promise.”
    Another dismissive hiss sounded from beyond those Nikes at the back.
    “Christina,” the girl who had been ill voiced meekly. “My name’s Christina.”
    The front of her dress was soaked in a spectacular display of sick. It was cold and Kate wondered how long her parents had let her sit like that. How could they not care? How could they forget all the love they must have had for her before the pages of that book ruined everything? Which of those hyper couples, now fawning over the Ismus and capering around the Jacks, trying to get their autographs and have their pictures taken with them, were her mom and dad?
    “Well, don’t you worry, Christina,” Kate said, taking hold of her small hand and squeezing it comfortingly. “We’ll find you clean clothes and have you feeling better in no time.”
    “The cases are in the luggage hold,” a new voice piped up. It belonged to an older, studious-looking girl, with short, mouse-coloured hair, wearing a shapeless, apple-green cardigan and faded, baggy jeans. “You really think they’ll let you broadcast this? You’re a deludanoid.”
    Kate ignored that for the moment. “Hi,” she said. “And who are you? Where’s that lovely accent from?”
    “Jody. From Bristol. Could you be any more patronising?”
    “Hello, Jody. And what would you like to say to the Americans watching this?”
    The girl looked away. “Not much,” she answered flatly. “They’ll find out soon enough I reckon.”
    “I’d really like to hear your story, Jody,” Kate persevered. “I’m sure it’s a fascinating one.”
    Still gazing into space, the girl shook her head. “Nothing to tell,” she answered. “’Cept I’ve been in this cattle wagon for eight hours an’ there weren’t enough bog stops.”
    “What about Dancing Jax ?