It’s only 6:15. Too early for dinner, but could Griffin have changed his mind about the timing?
I open the door, but it’s not Griffin standing on the other side.
DJ has traded her button-down for a butter yellow T-shirt, and her shoulder-length blonde hair is down with a couple of tiny braids tied in. She’s wearing a bunch of gold rings and bracelets, and her nails are painted clear with pink sparkles. I count seven piercings in both of her ears, but she has more.
“You’ve been in here so long I was starting to think you made a run for it—honestly, that’s what I almost did the first day I got here—not that this place isn’t great, but it’s a lot to take in and sometimes, when things are overwhelming, the logical response is to flee—so I get it.” She takes a huge breath before dropping her eyes to the ground. “Is this the famous Bob?”
Bob glares up at DJ from between my feet like he expects her to stab me or something. I guess he has good reason to assume that, given the past couple of days.
“You know his name?” I ask.
“Donny told me—he said you have a ‘small but formidable canine companion,’ which were his words, not mine—although I have to say, formidable is aperfectdescription for him. I mean, look at that face—he’s clearly plotting something—probably world domination.”
I like her. A lot.
“Do you ever stop to breathe when you talk?” I ask.
“Rarely.” She sticks her hand out to me. “I’m DJ. It stands for Daisy Jane, but that’s the name my father gave me, and I don’t like my father, so everyone calls me DJ.”
I take her hand. Her grip is strong for someone so wiry that she looks like she could be lifted off the ground by a big balloon.
“I’m Eden,” I say, although she clearly knows this.
“I know. I got you some stuff.” She hoists up a shopping bag, its handles stretching from its weight. “Shampoo, conditioner, my favorite brand of exfoliating scrub—also some T-shirts and sweatpants—they’re all mediums—I asked Nico what your size was and he said small, which issucha typical boy thing to say and completely unhelpful—small could mean anything from extra small to large depending on the brand and fit. Also, I got you dog treats. Bob deserves to be welcomed, too.”
I stare at the bag, then at her. Mom used to pick up things like this while she was out running errands and surprise me with them after school. Candy bars. Fuzzy socks. Those big-eyed Beanie Babies.
I try to swallow the lump in my throat. “You went shopping for me?”
“Donny mentioned you were, uh—” She pauses, and I realize she’s trying to come up with a gentle way to say ‘homeless.’
I save her the trouble. “Living in the five-star hotel parked in the driveway?”
“Yes.” DJ’s face brightens. “I figured you might need some basics.”
I take the bag and peek inside to find the brand of shampoo and conditioner that smells like vanilla and makes my hair so silky but is too expensive for me to justify. The T-shirts are cotton and all brightly colored like the ones I used to love wearing as a kid, even though I have no idea how she’d know that.
“Thank you. Really. This is—” I have to stop because my voice is sounding thick, so I clear it and try again. “How much do I owe you?”
“Consider it your welcome package,” she says. “I may have gotten a little carried away in the personal care aisle and bought enough that you won’t have to go shopping for months—unless you tend to fly through conditioner, like I do. Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted a tour of the house?”
Nico calling me ‘chatty’ feels especially rich now that I’ve met DJ, but there’s something so nice about the way she fills the space between us with words. I get the sense there will be no need for me to fill a silence and then accidentally put my foot in my mouth. She’ll always know what to say.
“Sure,” I say.
“I’msoglad to hear you say that,” DJ says. “Zoey almost made me cry when I joined the team and asked her for a tour—she didn’t even say anything—just glared at me—she still tells me to my face that I’m annoying, but whatever.” She lowers her voice, glancing over her shoulder. “Did you meet Griffin yet?”
Something about the careful way she says his name, like she’s expecting whatever I say to be bad, makes me want to joke about it. “The very clothed, and very scrawny blond?”
DJ’s hand flies up to her mouth, but she’s already laughing behind her hand. “He wasnakedwhen you met?”
Technically, I was half-naked when I first met all of them, so I’m hardly in a position to judge. “Not fully, but he’d just gotten out of the shower.”
“He’s such an idiot, ignore him—he’d flirt with a houseplant if it leaned close enough.” DJ rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out of her head, then jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “You ready for the tour?”
I nod and glance back at Bob, who’s curled up into a ball on the pile of my dirty clothes. He looks so comfortable that I don’twant to wake him up to come with me, so I step out and close the door behind me.
“So, this is the living room,” she says, as we reach the bottom of the stairs. “Obviously.” She smiles, heading for the entryway, but stops when she realizes I’m not following. I was too tired to get a good look when Donny brought me through this morning. I practically ran through when I took Bob out to pee, telling myself it was for his sake, but when he was done, I rushed him back to my room just as fast, if not faster, and then I was too busy embarrassing myself by eavesdropping on the very people I was so scared of bumping into. I feel my cheeks heat at the memory. I don’t want DJ to see, so I turn and examine the wall.
