I looked down at the key. I really wanted to go straight to the garden, but the time and the sound of her voice were making me reconsider. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything you want,” she said.

“Right, I, uh—do you know about—”

“The garden?” she cut in.

“So you do know about it.”

“I’ve never been inside their garden, but yeah, I know.”

“Did Circe ever tell you anything? About what was in there?” I asked.

There was a long pause. “Why don’t you come over and we can talk about it?”

“Right now?” I snatched the scarf off my head and touched my hair. It had been a few hours, and I’d dried it halfway before twisting it up so I could get the most stretch and cut my drying time by more than half, but it was still damp at the roots.

She laughed lightly. “Come on. It’s been a minute since I’ve had company.”

“I don’t have a ride. I don’t drive. And I—”

“I’ll send a car for you.”

“I can get an Uber or a Lyft myself. It’s not a big deal.”

She huffed into the phone. “Do you know how dangerous rideshares can be? I’ll send my own car with a driver I can trust to get you here safely.”

I hadn’t heard right. “Wait. You mean like a car service?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Gimme thirty?”

She huffed into the phone. “Okay. See you soon.” She hung up.

I closed up the hidden room and stashed the newly discovered sketchbook and key under my mattress. I put the hair dryer on low heat, high air and blasted my scalp till I was sure I could safely take out the twists. I could not meet Marie in another state of crusty disarray.

Ten minutes under the dryer and the world’s fastest take down later, my hair was coifed and ready to go. My eyebrows were a mess and I didn’t really feel like putting on a full face of makeup, but I also wanted to look halfway cute. I threw on a pair of gold hoops and dragged a fingertip full of Vaseline across my lips. I slipped on a pair of sneakers and went downstairs. Mom and Mo were in the front room.

“Is it okay if I go over to Marie’s house for a little bit?” I asked.

“Who’s Marie?” Mom asked.

“That girl who came to the house the other day.”

Mom raised an eyebrow. “If you want to, baby, but do you think it’s a good idea? You just met her.”

“She seems pretty nice,” I said.

Mo gave me a look. “Nice, huh? Is that why you got on them hoops? Everybody knows that hoops mean you tryna look cute.”

“Do I look cute?” I asked.

“Always,” Mom said. “Do you need a ride?”

“No,” I said. “She’s sending a car.”

They both turned toward me, eyes wide.

“A car?” Mom asked. “What kind of rich people behavior—”