9
A few minutes later, Knox and I stand in a darkened basement filled with spiders, dust, and—I’m pretty sure about this last part—at least a dozen rats hiding in the corners. Everything is rough stone and packed dirt. A tarp covers the far wall. There are no signs of cockroaches, though. Total bright side.
Goldi flits beside my shoulder. “How do you like the basement of West Lake Prep? Not the posh accommodations you’re used to, am I right?” A sly smile stretches her cherub-like face. She’s totally expecting me to crumple into a pile of blubbering teenager because of some dust and rats. She’s wrong.
“Looks fine to me,” I answer. “Before here, I worked on my papyri in a rundown cabin.”
“You did?” Goldi’s plump cheeks droop into a frown. “Where’s this cabin now?”
Knox raises his hand.
