Page 101 of Distortion
‘He means the grazes, Daisy,’ Mav says in a soothing voice.
‘Tripped.’ She levels me with a stare that lasts for a few seconds longer than usual before her eyes move away again. ‘You know how clumsy I am.’
My words to her friend are flung back in my face, though Daisy couldn’t know about our conversation because I doubt Lu would have mentioned it. She didn’t seem to want Daisy to know she was speaking to me. If there’s more going on, wouldn’t the pledges have said something when I asked?
I belatedly grab the towel off the floor and hand it to her. She snatches it and puts it in front of herself.
What the hell am I doing?
‘I’m sorry,’ I murmur. ‘But we can’t have you here. I’m ... going to tell my father that you did something.’
‘Did what?’ she asks.
‘I’ll make something up,’ I say quietly, wondering why I didn’t just do that before.
Maybe I wanted her to have a chance on some level.
I see her eyes narrow even as they glisten with new tears.
‘Piss off, Jack,’ she whispers. ‘You’re such a hypocrite.’
‘Jesus fuck!’ Blake snarls. ‘She’s not going anywhere. We need her.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Mav, show him.’
Mav leaves the room, casting worried glances at me and at Daisy as he does.
I stand and stare at Blake who’s watching Daisy closely.
‘Mav said you can’t talk when you’re upset,’ he says quietly.
She nods, not looking at me. ‘Sometimes.’
‘But you can now?’
‘Obviously.’
‘Even after ... that?’
She glances at me and sniffs. ‘It’s different with him. It always was. Probably because he makes me so angry.’
I snort.
Blake’s face is as blank as hers is. ‘Right.’
Mav comes back into the room holding a folder. He thrusts it at me before going to Daisy.
‘Are you okay?’
She nods stiffly, shying away from his touch as he urges her over to the bed and she sits down with a small wince that makes me feel like even more of an asshole. She was right, I think as I open the folder, I am acting like John.
‘What is this?’
‘The first are the formulas that Marcus did; the reason the tests didn’t have the results we thought. The second are the correct ones.’
‘Fucking Marcus,’ I whisper. I take a look at the second, corrected paper. ‘I don’t recognize the writing. Who did this? Did Applegate finally find us an assistant?’
