A smile spread across his face, but his face still held a hint of worry. I didn’t feel any relief about telling him about Dad. Was I supposed to? Was this supposed to feel good? It just felt like Dad was still in control, forcing me to share things with strangers that made me look weak instead of strong. He was still on my back, dragging me down.
Julian opened the other boxes, revealing an assortment of meats and rice and noodles. He handed me a paper plate and we loaded them up and sat on the couch. I dug into the orange chicken.
The door swung open, and Grayson stepped inside, dressed in black pants and a button-up shirt, his tie loosened around his neck.
“Hey,” he said to Julian. “Did you—” He stopped when he spotted me on the couch. “Hello.”
It was not exactly a friendly hello. It wasn’t unfriendly, but it was clearly a question, directed at Julian. Grayson’s eyes slid between us.
“You remember Clara,” Julian said. “I asked her to come eat with us, as a thank-you for beating up Edan.” He grinned at me. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“I didn’t beat him up. I just . . . tackled him a little.” I returned Julian’s smile, relieved at his easy cover-up.
“She scared the shit out of the poor guy,” Grayson said, typing something into his phone as he talked.
“The poor guy shouldn’t rob people,” I said. Julian laughed.
Grayson snorted. “Can’t argue with that.”
“Also I told Clara that she made it,” Julian said.
Grayson made an exasperated noise. “Julian, you’re not—”
“She promised not to tell anyone!” Julian interrupted.
“I won’t,” I said quickly.
“Act surprised tomorrow when you get your letter,” Grayson said.
“My roommate never showed up, so there’s no one around to see it anyway.”
Grayson piled food on his plate and sat on the other side of the couch. “Perfect.” He shoveled food into his mouth with chopsticks in one hand and held his phone in the other. “Julian, I need you to sort out these ground teams they keep messaging us about. You took the best notes.”
“I’m getting to it.” Julian took a bite of an eggroll.
“Julian.”
“I’m getting to it! It’s only”—he twisted around to peer at the clock on the wall—“four o’clock. Give me, like, thirty minutes. I’m going to eat, and Clara’s going to tell us all the gossip.”
I looked up in surprise. “Gossip?”
“Yeah. What are the other recruits like? How’s the mood?”
Grayson lowered his phone. He was interested in the gossip too, apparently.
“Oh, um, I don’t know,” I said. “People seem excited, I guess. I haven’t hung out with people much. Except Patrick.”
“Patrick?” Julian repeated.
“Yeah, we met on the Dallas bus. He’s really nice. Most of our bus was older people, so we connected.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mind connecting with the pretty girl,” Julian said, one side of his mouth lifting. Grayson looked at him sharply.
I tried not to react to the fact that he’d just called me pretty. I focused on scooping up a forkful of fried rice. “Well, he’s gay, so I don’t think he was thinking about that.”
“Oh,” Julian said. Was he relieved? I was probably imagining it.
“Patrick said he joined because it was the right thing to do, to help people,” I said. “I sort of thought that’s why most people joined.”
Grayson smiled. Julian grabbed his phone. “Patrick . . .”
“Choi.”
Julian scrolled through something on his phone. “Choi, Choi . . .”
“Do not tell her if he made it,” Grayson warned.
“I won’t! I was just checking my notes.” Julian put his phone back on the table and waited until Grayson returned his attention to his plate. He shot me a grin and a thumbs-up.
I quickly ducked my head to hide my smile.
The door opened, and Madison St. John blew inside, changed from the perfect workout clothes I’d seen earlier into shiny black leggings and bright green crop top, three-inch heels on her feet.
“Those fucking motherfuckers are still outside, and I swear to god, Grayson, I am not”—her eyes skipped over me—“in the mood today. I will lose my shit if I have to do another interview. Who is that?” She said it all in a rush, and it took me a moment to realize the last part referred to me.
“Clara, Madison,” Julian said, with a hint of annoyance. “Madison, Clara.”
She planted her hands on her hips and turned her attention back to Grayson without acknowledging me. “Did you hear me?”
“The people three doors down heard you, Maddie.”
“I’m not talking to those bastards again today.”
“Fine.”
She winced and stepped out of her shoes, shrinking considerably. She was only a couple inches taller than me, maybe five foot eight. “These fucking things are killing me.”
“Why are you dressed like you’re going out to the club?” Julian asked.
“I invited a few people over to my suite.” She speared a piece of beef from a carton and popped it in her mouth.
“We have to be up early in the morning,” Grayson said in a warning tone.
“I’ll sleep on the plane.”
“Did you call back the Times reporter?” Grayson asked.
“No. What did I just say about interviews?”
“Call him back, please.”
“No, I shan’t.”
“He has a deadline. And the MDG spokesperson has given him about ten quotes calling us insane mercenaries.”
“MDG does know that they’re also kind of mercenaries, right?” Madison said. “This seems like a pot calling the kettle black situation.”
“Perfect. Call Bill and tell him that. We need to get our side out there. Just one more, Maddie.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m so tired of all these goddamn reporters.” But she dug her phone out of her pocket and angrily poked at it. She held it up to her ear. “Hi, Bill!” Her tone changed drastically, switching to the perky tone I’d heard at her interview earlier today. “Sure, I can give you a quote.” She walked into the bedroom and shut the door behind her.
“Don’t mind her,” Julian said. “She’s not very friendly on her best days, much less when she’s had to talk to reporters all day.”
“She’s friendly!” Grayson
