Sydney slides her hand over her purse, but I reach out to stop her and shake my head no.
“Fine,” Marcella says, annoyed. “Give me a second.”
She takes out her phone, dials, and brings it to her ear. “So much for the surprise,” she says, glancing in the mirror at us.
“Yes, hi,” she says when someone picks up. “Can I talk to Adrian? Good, hold on.” She then passes the phone back to me. I fumble with it for a second.
“Hello?” Adrian says, sounding just like she did when she befriended me on my first day.
“Hi … Adrian,” I reply. “It’s Mena, from, uh, history class.”
“Mena! I’m happy you called.”
“I’m actually calling from your gate,” I say. “Do you think you could tell the guard to let us in?”
“Us?” she questions.
“It’s me and Sydney and two other girls. We … We need to talk to you.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “All right,” she says. “Yeah, let me call down there right now.”
We hang up and I give the phone back to Marcella. We wait, silently, until the guard gets the call. He writes down a few notes before hanging up.
He comes next to the window again and taps on the roof of the car.
“Welcome to The Gardens,” he says warmly, and then walks back to the booth.
We all freeze, and Marcella looks around until she points out the name posted on the stone waterfall at the entrance.
The name of the neighborhood is The Gardens. But we can’t help but think there’s a deeper meaning.
Adrian’s house—her father’s house—is the grandest estate I’ve ever seen, including in movies. It even puts Winston Weeks’s property to shame. It’s funny, though—if Adrian is this rich, she certainly doesn’t behave that way, accessorize that way. I wonder what the story is.
“She never told you she lived in a mansion?” Brynn asks, looking back at me from the passenger seat.
“No,” I say. “She actually mentioned living somewhere else entirely. I don’t know why she lied about this, but I intend to ask her. First, we’re going to talk to her father.”
We all get out, and Sydney double-checks that the Taser is still in her purse as we approach the front porch. Marcella and Brynn set their phones to record, and I ready myself for an altercation. We don’t know what’s waiting for us behind this oversized front door.
“This is it,” Marcella murmurs, and holds out her hands.Brynn takes one while Sydney takes the other. I step forward to ring the bell.
There is a shuffle behind the door, the sound of a twisting lock, and then the door eases open. The man standing there is short, with gray hair and wire-rimmed glasses. His cheeks are rosy, his expression polite. He’s wearing a navy sweater over a collared shirt, pleated pants, and shiny gold watch.
“Mr. Goodwin?” I ask.
“Can I help you, my dear?” he replies in a friendly enough way.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out at first. I imagined him as a demon, but instead, he looks like someone’s rich grandpa. Can evil masquerade as a regular person?
“Are you here for—?” He cuts himself off as if suddenly realizing something. He runs his eyes quickly over me and then darts them to Sydney. To Marcella, to Brynn, each time taking in our appearance. His skin turns waxy, and his eyes widen slightly.
Although we look different than we did at the academy, it’s pretty clear that we’re still Innovations girls, especially to an investor.
“Christ,” Mr. Goodwin says, and moves to shut the door in our faces.
Marcella throws herself against the door, getting her foot in before it can close. She knocks it open, and Mr. Goodwin shuffles backward, looking around wildly until he hits the wall under the staircase.
The foyer is massive. There is a grand staircase with two entrances. It’s honestly too much.
