CHAPTER 8CHARLIE
March 23, 2090
“These people talk too much,” Max whispered. He dropped his notebook and pen to his lap and shook his hand.
I had already been at the town auditorium for hours because Alexander had enlisted me to help set up folding chairs on the basketball court before the forum began. By the time we finished, Rochelle and Kat arrived, and we helped Rochelle practice presenting her ideas on stage until the other candidates got there.
“Here.” I held out my hands. “I’ll take over.” Even before the forum started, Max had been complaining about having to take notes for his aunt’s newspaper.
“You can barely see.” He turned to me, eyebrows raised. “Every time you read something, you hold it an inch away from your face.” “I won’t be reading, just writing.” My vision had alwa
