CHAPTER 7ROCHELLE
March 13, 2090
“The poster says I have to be sixteen to be on the council, not sixteen to run for the council.” I leaned forward in my chair across from Alexander’s desk. “If it’s written that way in the rule book . . .”
“Rochelle, does Kinley know you’re here?” Alexander looked up from the envelope he had been addressing through my argument.
“Not exactly.” I had been caught in the one fact I couldn’t get out of. “But . . .”
“But nothing,” he interrupted. “You and Kinley and I already talked about this. Remember when we agreed that your health is first priority and . . .”
Tuning out the lecture I’d heard a hundred times, I glanced around the familiar office. Papers and books stood in stacks on one side of the desk and a nearby chair. The three plants on the windowsi
