Professor Ivy shook his head. “Much though I hate to turn you loose on society, this three-day weekend is intended as a breather before you came back for the second half of the semester. So at least get off campus, preferably, go home and see your family and old friends. Have some fun. See you Tuesday, rested and ready to go. Or hungover. Whatever. Scat!”
Milo looked wistful.
Ryol snorted. “Have fun in Paris. I’m headed for Montevideo, and the beach.”
It was great. Late enough in the southern hemisphere spring that swimming, surfing, and sunning with family and friends was fun. Monday evening came too soon, and Mother dropped them off at the curb, a short walk to the dorms.
Arno veered off to his and Ryol walked on, the sidewalks busy in the twilight, all the students returning from the weekend.
Milo popped up from a bench outside her dorm. “I thought about calling, but . . . I really need to talk to you.”
“Milo . . .” She took in his worried expression . . . almost sick. “Let me dump my luggage in my room. I’ll be right down.”
“Now what the One has you in such a swivvet?”
He waved his hands, helpless . . . “It’s just . . . being around my father again, and being treated like I was . . . well I didn’t put myself foreward when he was talking to some other people . . . but I heard him say that at least they wouldn’t have to worry about Izzo much longer.”
“I know! I know this is already one of the dirtiest campaigns in centuries, and I ought to be on my father’s side. But . . . And it’s not like I have any real information. Or even . . .”
“Do you know who he was talking to?”
“Peeve . . . he works for my dad. Two Councilmen, Otty and Aprw . . . I don’t even know who to talk to about something so nebulous.” He stared at her. “But your dad’s a subdirector, maybe he know where to . . . I don’t know. Drop a hint?”
Ryol sighed. “I know who to call.” She pulled out her comm and tapped in Rael’s number.