CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
"I'm afraid Mr. Porter isn't here,” the receptionist said, studying Ilse intently.
"Bobby. He said his name was Bobby."
Ilse leaned against the information desk. She watched as the old woman leaned forward, as if the motion taxed her in ways that weren't quite visible. She let out a long sigh, that turned to a groan halfway through.
"Bobby Porter. He's on staff, but he's not working today.
Ilse waved away the objection, glancing back towards where Sawyer was examining a vending machine and trying to make it dispense a Gatorade.
She would really have to talk to him one day. Caffeine pills and sugar drinks were a quick way to an early grave. For now, she stayed on task. "All right, in that case, we need a roster of students and teachers and organizers for the classes
