My dad clears his throat, his voice soft. “I can assure you more thought was put into your selection than just a random drawing.” He turns to Ella, giving her the same reassuring look I used to get when I’d come home from school after being bullied. “And your escape from Lorien was certainly more than an accident. More like a blessing, I’d say.”

“Uh, right,” says Five, still staring at the floor as he addresses my dad. “I guess the old human would be an expert on Lorien.” He glances up then, forcing a smile as he notices the rest of us fixing him with weird looks. “Sorry,” he adds quickly, “I’m just thinking out loud. I don’t know what I’m talking about either.”

“I don’t consider myself an expert,” my dad says diplomatically. “I’m sorry if I offended you. But I believe in the work of your Elders. If I didn’t . . .” He trails off, probably thinking about the time he’s spent as a Mogadorian captive.

Five looks sheepish now. “Four—uh, John—I’m pretty tired. Is there a place where I can lay down for awhile?”

“Sure, man,” John replies, patting Five on the back. “Why don’t I show all you guys where the rooms are?”

A few minutes ago, I empathized with Five for what an awkward situation this must be for him. But, I don’t know, something about the way he talked to my dad really rubbed me the wrong way. There was almost a note of disdain in his voice, like my father couldn’t possibly have any useful information about the Garde.

The whole group—minus Nine—lead us down a hallway covered in works of art that would probably fetch a small fortune at a museum auction. I still can’t believe a dude like Nine lives here. I feel like I should be wearing a tuxedo just walking around. As we walk through the penthouse, Sarah and Six break off to get cleaned up from the road, and Ella excuses herself to go help Nine put away the gear. Eventually, John stops in the middle of the hallway.

“This one’s free,” John says, opening a door for Five. “There are some extra clothes in the drawers too, in case you feel like a change.”

“Thanks,” Five says, trudging into the room. He’s about to slam the door, but realizes we’re all lingering outside, kinda staring at him. “Uh, see you guys at dinner, I guess,” he mutters, before closing the door.

“Cool dude,” Eight says dryly. Marina elbows him in the ribs and shushes him. I glance towards the closed door where I bet Five is still standing, listening. I feel a little sorry for him again. It isn’t easy being an outsider.

John turns to my dad and me. “Are you guys beat too? Or do you want the grand tour?”