“He’s really nice,” I said, pausing to consider what she was hinting at. “I like him as a friend and honestly, that’s what I need right now.”

“That’s just as important as anything else,” said Mo.

I could always tell if I liked somebody straight out the gate. People didn’t really grow on me. I either liked them right away or not at all, and I liked Karter. But that meant at some point I’d have to decide how much to tell him or how much I had to hide, and I hated that part.

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 12

I found Mom in the kitchen, scrubbing the open shelves like her life depended on it. Her eyes were rimmed with red like she’d been crying.

She caught the concern on my face. “It’s my allergies. This place is so dusty. Where did you run off to?”

“I drove around with Karter for a while.”

“See anything interesting?” she asked.

“Sort of. We drove past this place called Samuel’s Sweet Shop. Looked cute. They serve coffee and stuff. Maybe we could go there another day.”

“Tomorrow?” Mom asked.

“No, Mo is making waffles tomorrow.”

“Wait. Who’s making waffles?” Mom asked.

“Karter is coming over for breakfast tomorrow, and I’m gonna make waffles,” said Mo as she walked into the kitchen, shooting me an overexaggerated scowl. “Look what I found earlier.” She went to the cabinet and took out what seemed like the first waffle iron ever made. She put it on the counter with a heavy thud. “It inspired me.”

Mom stared at Mo like she had two heads.

Mo crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m so mad that y’all think I can’t make waffles. It’s not rocket science.”

“I know,” Mom said. “But, babe, have you ever actually made waffles?”

I tried to stifle my laughter but couldn’t. Neither could Mom. Mo turned and walked out.

“I’m gonna prove y’all wrong in the morning,” she called over her shoulder. “And then you’re gonna want me to make you waffles all the time, and I’m gonna say no.”

Mom sighed and knelt down to clean the lower row of cabinets. “Make sure you have your camera ready when she starts cooking, but also be ready to call the fire department.”

“Oh, I’m on it,” I said. “I’m gonna start going through some of the stuff upstairs. I, um—I found something when I was out looking around.”

“Oh yeah?” Mom asked. “What is it?”

I wanted to tell her everything, but I stopped myself. I was still trying to figure out what Circe was trying to communicate through her letters and understand what my immunity had to do with the work she’d mentioned. “A garden,” I said. “It’s overgrown and mostly dead, but I think I can fix it.”