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Easton takes me through the garage and into the house.
“Easton?” I hear a woman yell. “Is that you?”
“Shit,” Easton mutters. “I thought she’d be out shopping with Jenna since there’s no school today.”
“Easton?” she yells.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” he yells back as he takes me down a short hallway to an open staircase that leads to the basement.
“Easton, I—” His mom stops when she sees us. She showed up just as we’re about to go downstairs. “I didn’t know you had a guest.”
“Mom, this is Nova,” he says, his arm around me, holding me up.
She forces out a smile. “Yes, I remember. I’m Penelope.” She shakes my hand. “It’s nice to see you again.”
She doesn’t seem as scary as she did on Thanksgiving. I guess scary isn’t the right word. She looked panicked that day, like I’d ruined her Thanksgiving and she didn’t know what to do.
“Easton said you’d left town,” she says.
“She did, but she came back,” Easton says. “I’m gonna take her down to the guest room. She’s not feeling well and she needs a place to rest.”
Penelope looks at me with concern, like genuine concern. It’s not what I was expecting. I thought she’d take Easton aside and tell him to get rid of me, especially since I’m sick and probably contagious.
“Can I get you something?” she asks. “Juice? Water?”
“I’m fine. I just need to lay down.”
“She’s burning up,” Easton says to his mom. “I don’t know what to do.”
His mom comes up to me and feels my forehead. “Oh, honey, we need to cool you down.”
Did she just call me honey? Or was she talking to Easton?
“Take her downstairs,” she says to Easton. “I’ll go get her something for the fever.”
“Could I maybe take a shower?” I ask. “I think I’d feel better if I showered.”
“Of course,” Penelope says. “Do you have something to change into?”
“Shit, I forgot to get her bag,” Easton says. “I can go back and get it.”
“No!” I give him a look, begging him not to leave me here alone. “I don’t need it. I’ll just wear what I have on.”
“I’ll give you something of Jenna’s.” Penelope looks me up and down. “She might be a little bigger than you, but I’ll find something that’ll work.” She turns to Easton. “Take her down to the guest room. I’ll be there in a minute.”
As we go down the stairs, I get more and more worried that something’s going to happen, like his mom’s on the phone right now, calling up a social worker to come get me.
“She’s going to tell them,” I say.
“She won’t. She wants to help you.”
We’re in the basement now and I stop a moment to look at it. It’s a large open room with two big couches, a huge TV on the wall, a kitchen with a full-sized refrigerator, and a high-top table with six chairs. When Easton said I’d be staying in his basement, I was expecting a room with concrete walls, a cement floor, and storage boxes stacked up everywhere. That’s what all the basements I’ve been in look like.
“What’s wrong?” Easton asks as I stand there.
“Nothing. I’ve just never seen a basement like this. It’s really nice.”
“We don’t really use it. I probably haven’t even been down here in over a month.” He takes my arm and leads me down a short hallway to a guest room. There’s another one right next to it.
