Daisy just shrugs, not minding. Blonde hair and arresting green eyes, her cotton shirt has a graphic of two hugging avocados, and she wears a pair of matching boxers. “Ryke wants us to let him know when we leave, so that we don’t have another…situation.” Situation is a kind word for all of us getting plastered last November and Aunt Lily falling down the third step of the ladder. She face-planted in a pile of leaves and sprained her wrist.
