Chapter 8
8
DAISY
I ’ve been trying to read the same page for an hour. I wish I could blame the noise that’s coming from all the other rooms, but the truth is I can’t do this.
Maybe it’s the day I’ve had. Maybe it’s the emotional whiplash, the exhaustion, the fact that I’ve been on the verge of tears for hours and all I want to do is curl up in the dark and the quiet and I can’t.
I open the desk drawer and find the card from my mom that I put in there earlier. It’s damaged, but I can still make out some of the words, and they comfort me. Mom did care. I flatten it out and put it by the heating vent in the corner of the room to dry.
Then, I sit back in the chair with a long sigh when I look at the Chaucer book in front of me again.
I can’t do English Lit. I literally can’t wrap my head around these dumb texts that are hundreds of years old no matter how hard I try.
Maybe they do win. Maybe I need to leave. Strike out on my own where John can’t find me to send me back to The Heath .
I rub my eyes.
‘With what?’ I mutter to myself.
I have no money. No skills except maybe preliminary barista. And, let’s be honest, I’ve only done a few shifts at Grinder. It’s a stretch to call myself a barista.
I shut the book and put my head in my hands. The music through the house pumps. The walls and floors are practically vibrating. I snuggle deeper into the comforter. I’m still chilled to the bone, but at least I’m not shivering anymore.
The shower was awful even though I washed everything as quickly as I could. I shiver at the memory. My tummy rumbles again and I try to ignore it. Going back downstairs after earlier isn’t something I want to repeat today. I’m done.
I glance at my bed, wondering if I could sleep through this.
But, in the end, I do what I’ve been wanting to since I got back. I go to the dark closet and open it, glad more than ever that I have so few clothes. It’s practically empty except for the boxes piled in the corner. There’s enough room for me.
My heart thumps hard as I go into the darkness and shut the door quietly. I can still hear the thumping, but it seems muted in here. I close my eyes and, for the first time today, I sigh in utter relief. The headache is still lingering, but I don’t want to take what’s available. The Heath didn’t send me with more than four of the pills I was prescribed for my migraines. Maybe they figured John would sort me out with some, or I’d be back so soon I wouldn’t need any. Regardless, I don’t want to waste the last two I have on a regular headache.
I bask in the darkness and semi-silence. The Heath didn’t allow this. I’d have had outside privileges taken away for a week at the very least if they found me relaxing in a closet. I was afraid I’d feel that horrible panic when I told Blake no to sitting on his knee earlier, but I never did this at The Heath, I suppose. Or, if I did it was a rarity and I was never caught.
I feel my eyelids start to droop and I let the bliss of sleep take me, vaguely hoping that no one comes looking for me until the weekend is over.
I’m woken to a door opening and light blinding me.
‘She’s here! I found her.’
I’m picked up in burly arms, and I’m so out of it, I don’t even think to struggle at first.
I blink in the light, trying to figure out what’s going on, trying to focus on the face above me.
I freeze.
‘Put me down!’ I shriek and I’m deposited roughly on the mattress.
I scramble away in a panic and almost fall on the floor as I slip off the bed and stand up.
‘It’s okay. It’s okay.’
Mav?
‘What’s going on?’ I ask, rubbing my eyes and belatedly yawning. ‘What time is it?’
‘Twelve.’
‘At night?!’ I shriek.
‘In the afternoon.’
Oh.
I’ve slept for hours. I still feel exhausted, though, at least the thumping music has stopped.
‘What are you doing in my room?’
Mav takes a step toward me and I take two back.
‘I knocked,’ he explains. ‘I wanted to make sure you were okay. But you didn’t answer. And then we couldn’t find you.’
‘We?’
I belatedly realize the other two are at the door, watching .
‘What were you doing in the closet, Daisy?’
Shade’s voice is hard.
I snort, trying to make light of it. I didn’t think they’d find out and I don’t want to explain it to them. ‘The music was bothering me and I was tired,’ I say. ‘The closet blocked out some of the noise so I could sleep.’ I shrug, hopefully nonchalantly.
I yawn again and close my eyes. My headache is coming back with a vengeance. I wince as I roll my shoulders. My back is killing me. Maybe sleeping in the closet was ill-advised. My chest feels tight, too, and I hope I’m not coming down with a virus.
‘Anyway, I’m here. You’ve found me. Can I go back to sleep now?’ I ask.
The other two seem to share a look and leave without a word. I’m left alone with Mav.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Besides bruised, aching, tired, and probably coming down with something thanks to you guys and your little games? I’m fine. Nothing a little rest won’t fix.’ My eyes narrow. ‘Is that what the music was about last night, too? Were you trying to find me today, so that we could go on another fun little trip together this afternoon? Maybe we could go through my dead mom’s room again before hiking in the cold autumn rain in short sleeves followed by some bungee jumping and another seafood dinner along with a few more hours of death metal?’
I stop, afraid I’m giving him tips.
He doesn’t say anything, but I think I’ve surprised him.
‘Was it Shade’s idea?’ I ask.
Was that what the kiss was about? Was it meant to fuck with my head, too?
I take a step forward. ‘You can tell my stepbrother that I’m not the dumb little retard he knew. I don’t act like that anymore thanks to a decade in a facility where that kind of unacceptable behavior has consequences.’
I’m giving too many details. I shut my mouth and look at his face just in time to see something that I might misconstrue as concern if I didn’t know better.
I scoff at the laughable thought.
‘It wasn’t his idea,’ Mav says a little stiffly.
‘ You ?’ I ask, feeling oddly ... betrayed even though that’s laughable, too.
He averts his eyes and I approach him slowly.
‘Did it make you feel powerful?’ I ask him in a burst of courage, and he stiffens.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I slap him hard across his cheek. The crack echoes through the room and I’m shocked at myself, but I press on.
He does nothing but watch me.
‘Did you enjoy it? Making me feel that way? Scaring me? Making me cry?’ I lower my voice. ‘Making me so upset I couldn’t talk ?’
He shakes his head. ‘No,’ he whispers.
‘Liar.’
His eyes find mine. ‘I didn’t enjoy it.’
‘Why not? Everyone else in this house seems to love being cruel.’
He takes a step closer and his eyes flash. ‘Because hurting those who are lesser is wrong.’
My genuine, yet caustic laugh surprises us both.
‘Get the fuck out of my room,’ I snarl.
He turns and stalks out, closing my door behind him. I stare at the vacant spot where he was standing.
Lesser.
My lips curl.
I don’t know why, after everything else that’s been going on, that stands out the most and makes me the angriest, but it does. Perhaps it’s because it’s the root of the problem. John, Shade, Mav, Blake, and most others here think I’m stupid. Lesser than them. I let out a small breath.
A girl does something bad, gets a diagnosis, spends a decade in the loony bin, and suddenly she’s not as good as everyone else?
Not very fair.
The night that put me in The Heath will haunt me all my life, but I’ve done my time. This is my life, my chance, and I’m not going to let them steal it.
I look at the books on the table and narrow my eyes. And I’m not doing English Lit, either. There are subjects I’m actually good at.
I’ve had enough of this.
I go to the closet and put the comforter back on my bed. I take off my clothes and put them on my chair for tomorrow. I get into bed, close my eyes, and, despite the time, I go back to sleep, putting everything out of my mind for now.
I don’t wake until my alarm sounds on Monday and the morning brings with it a sense of purpose. I feel better physically and stronger mentally, too. I haven’t felt this positive since I first got here almost three weeks ago. Has it really been that long since The Heath? Since the funeral?
The reminder of my mom has me finding the two notes in my drawer and putting them in my pocket, so that I can enlist Lu’s help later. After our Grinder shift today, I’m supposed to be going with her to her dorm, so she can show me the spare battle gear she’s going to lend me. The battle is on Friday and I’m already getting excited for it.
I look at the clock. Almost eight.
First things first. I get dressed and jump in the bathroom for a quick toilette in cold water. I don’t see any of the guys, thankfully, as I grab what I need for the day from my room, and then go down to the kitchen.
No one’s there either. In a burst of inspiration, I go through the cabinets. I find a box of Pop Tarts. I used to love these when I was a kid. John put a stop to me having them because he said the e-numbers and the sugar made me worse than usual. Maybe he was right, but what a dick move.
I put two in the toaster and, while they heat, I take a quick look around. The pledges have been cleaning everything up, so there are no messes from the guys’ late nights during the weekend.
The toaster pops up and I take one hot Tart out, wrapping it in a paper towel to save my fingers. I leave the other one in and change the setting to the maximum, and then I push it down again with a small, cold grin. For the first time, I notice that there are sprinkler heads in the ceiling and my smile widens.
I’m so glad their safety measures are up to scratch!
I half wonder if the system here works the same as the one at The Heath. We had a couple of fires during the time I was there and not all of them would go off, just the ones near the smoke. Guess I’ll find out later.
I’ve forgotten my boots, so I run upstairs and grab them quickly, glad I wore my sneakers on the river, and at least it’s not my favorite shoes that are soaked.
I open the front door just as smoke is filling the kitchen from the Pop Tarts currently burning in the toaster, and I take a deep breath of the cool, crisp early morning air.
Today’s a new day, I think as I hear water spraying and the smoke alarms begin to blare out. I close the door with a small click, walking down the driveway with a pep in my step and a lingering smile on my face.
I see a silvery-blue butterfly on the pavement in front of me and I pick it up carefully so it doesn’t get trodden on in the impending evacuation from the house. It walks along my finger as I go down the driveway and takes off into the air a moment later. I watch it as it flutters off in the breeze; such a fragile thing, and yet they migrate a thousand miles to stay alive.
If a tiny insect can do that, then surely I can survive here, maybe even flourish if I put my mind to it.
It’s time these men who think themselves so far above me learned that while the daisies in their world might be easily ripped up, or crushed underfoot, in my world they have thorns ... and also they bite. It’s my world so maybe they’re radioactive, too. Anyway, they’re smart and dangerous. I’m smart and dangerous.
Stoke and the others went on and on about cause and effect during my years at The Heath. ‘All actions have consequences’, they said, and I think I finally get it. It’s just that at The Heath, it was only the residents’ actions that had consequences, not the staff.
I don’t think that’s very fair.
A kitchen full of smoke and water is Kappa Iota Pi’s consequence for my weekend from hell. I do hope that most of them were still sound asleep in their little frat boy beds when the alarms began to blare. I assume that the pledges will be cleaning up. Fitting. But that leaves Shade, Blake, and Mav without a real punishment. I’ll have to think of something to restore the equilibrium.
Checks and balances. That’s what’s been missing.
Once I’m away from the house, I refuse to think about it, or the guys I’m being forced to live with. I go to the library first, because I know it’s open early. I get rid of the Chaucer and the Shakespeare at the hole in the wall for returns. It’s an almost symbolic gesture that makes me feel much lighter because, even if I can’t follow through with my plan, I’m never going to have to suffer through those boring classes nor attempt to read anything other than modern English ever again.
I’m not doing it and that’s that.
Once I’ve dropped off the books, I go to the back where there are a couple of computers amongst the shelves. There’s no one else around as I drop my bag next to me and begin.
First, I check if I can change majors and find that it’s easy in the first year. But I’m not in my first year. I’ll need to put in a request with the chair of the department I want to change to. I check my campus map. Looks like I’ll get to see inside the precious Novelle building sooner than I thought.
Next, I search up everything I can find on my mom and her life as a Novelle. There are photos of her at parties and, when I look at the captions, they’re at galas she held for charities. The names surprise me. Association for Autistic Community. Autistic Women and Nonbinary Network. Autistic Self Advocacy Network. Others. All of them are for neurodivergent people.
I keep reading, finding out things about my mother I never knew from fluff pieces, like she loved the piano and dark chocolate. But there’s nothing about her life before becoming a Novelle. Nothing. There’s also no mention of her having a daughter anywhere, or a marriage with Mark Evans before John.
I sit back in the chair and regard the screen thoughtfully.
The Novelles scrubbed my mom’s life of the things they didn’t like. Me, they got rid of all together. I was right. The rumors all over the campus must originate from Shade. There’s no way anyone else could know anything about me. There’s nothing online. My name isn’t mentioned anywhere; not as Novelle, nor as Evans.
Just to torture myself a little more, I search for anything regarding the death of Michael Larson. Of course I remember it. I was there, but it’s sort of faded, like a dream or a nightmare. However, except for an obituary on a local news site, there’s nothing. Not about him, nor about his death. It’s like he barely existed either.
The Novelles strike again.
His birth and death dates sear themselves into my brain. It’s only a couple of months until the anniversary of when he died. Ten years to the day.
I close the window quickly and I glance at the clock. It’s eight. Maybe the guy I need to see gets in early.
Grabbing my stuff, I leave the library and walk through the Quad toward the sparkly Novelle Center. I ignore the people milling around, and the whispers that follow me, as usual. Inside the science building, I scan the names on the board for the office I need. Out of the corner of my eye, I see two figures I recognize.
What are they doing here?
I turn and walk briskly to the bank of lifts ... elevators out of view and vaguely see Mav and Shade go past from my hiding place up against the metal wall just inside. I frantically push the button to close the doors and pray that they don’t come in.
But they go right past and the doors shut smoothly. They never even look in my direction.
I press the five and feel the upwards movement, sighing in relief. Were they looking for me? Why would they try here? That doesn’t make sense.
The doors open into a white hallway and I don’t bother trying to guess their motivations any longer. I don’t care anyway. I’m on a mission, the most important of my life so far.
I find door 506 and see the name. Dr. Finbar Applegate plus about ten letters. I smirk as I remember that Stoke only had five after his.
I knock .
‘Yes?’ comes an impatient muffled voice.
I take a steadying breath and open the door. I step into the office, noticing the minimalist décor amongst a fair few diplomas, certificates, and awards. One’s a silver Rubix cube, the lines catching my eye.
‘My student hours don’t begin until nine. Come back then.’
I look at him, taking in the graying hair and the goatee. The white coat and the nonchalant way he’s sitting behind the desk. Despite his words, his dark eyes seem kind to me. Or perhaps they just don’t resemble Stoke’s ice-blue ones.
‘Apologies,’ I say, ‘but I’m working then. Would you be able to give me five minutes now? Please?’
He lets out a small sigh and rolls his eyes. ‘Fine. What is it?’
‘I’d like to change my major to Chemistry. You’re the chair of that department and I read online that I need to speak to you about it.’
‘You just need to put in a request,’ he says, sounding bored.
‘I’m not a freshman.’
‘What are you, then?’ He leans a little closer.
‘A sophomore.’
He looks at his watch. My time must be almost up.
‘What’s your major now?’
‘English.’
Even I see his surprise, and then his condescending amusement.
‘ Literature ?’ he scoffs. ‘Look, I’m not sure if this is a dare or what, but I don’t have time for these jokes.’
I step forward. ‘I’m not joking. I’m much better suited to STEM than Liberal Arts.’
His eyes roll skyward. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Marguerite Nov— Evans. ’
He taps away at his keyboard, looking bored as his eyes begin scanning the screen. He straightens abruptly, giving me an assessing look.
‘What did you say your last name was?’
‘Evans.’
More tapping, but he doesn’t look bored anymore.
‘It says here that you transferred this year from England?’
‘That’s right,’ I say.
‘Sit down, please,’ he says, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.
I sit down brusquely in case he changes his mind. Getting him to listen to me was the hard part, I remind myself. I took a ton of online science classes so I’m hoping I have enough to be a sophomore as a chemistry major.
‘Pardon my French, but why the hell did they let you do English Lit? You barely have enough English credits to graduate high school with.’ His brow furrows. ‘Though I see you got the UK equivalent of a high school diploma.’
He looks at me again, eyebrows raised in question.
I shrug. ‘When I transferred, that’s what I was told by the admissions office,’ I lie smoothly. ‘Maybe they got me mixed up with someone else.’
He snorts as he keeps reading from the screen. ‘I have some experience with the UK marking systems from time I spent there early in my career. Your grades and test scores are impressive.’
‘Thank you,’ I murmur. ‘Good enough to be a Freshman in Chem?’
His look is sharp. ‘No, Miss Evans.’
My heart sinks and I start formulating Plan B: Daisy, the Barista in Unnamed City X .
‘You have more college credits here than most of the juniors,’ he continues.
I sit back, surprised .
‘You must have worked very hard over the past four years,’ he probes.
I’ve piqued his interest.
Good .
‘Well,’ I give him a polite smile. ‘There wasn’t much else to do in rural England where my dad was based, so I just kept taking classes.’
His eyes narrow. ‘Really.’ Then he chuckles, sitting back and watching me. He seems to decide something. ‘Ever consider a double major?’
I frown dubiously. ‘In Chemistry and English Lit?’
He lets out a loud guffaw that startles me. ‘Of course not! I’m thinking Chem and Math. Maybe Physics.’
‘I ...’ I’m taken aback. ‘No,’ I admit honestly. ‘I had no idea I had that many credits that applied here. Is that ... allowed?’
Why did John try to make me do a subject I didn’t even have the credits for?
Because he’s an asshole.
I’m suddenly very happy that so few people here know my connection with John. I have a feeling that I’d be thwarted if Dr. Applegate knew who my stepfather is.
I glance around his pretty, new-looking office.
Conflict of interest perhaps.
‘How about it?’ he asks.
‘Yes. Chemistry and Physics, please.’
‘You understand that it will be very demanding.’
I nod.
He regards me for a moment. ‘I’m prepared to enroll you on a trial basis. From what I can see, you’re more than capable, but this isn’t usual. I’ll be breaking a few rules.’
I open my mouth to respond, but he interrupts, not looking at me.
‘I’m in charge of the STEM programs here though, so there won’t be a problem with that provided you can prove yourself.’ He looks at the screen again. ‘You have more than enough credits to be a senior in Chem, but you’re one shy for Physics.’ He glances at me. ‘I’d be willing to overlook it if you agree to assist some of the other seniors in the lab.’
A senior? Holy shit.
I nod vigorously, wondering why he’s being so accommodating, but also not wanting to jinx it by asking any questions.
‘Fine. I’ll have my secretary take care of the details. Your schedule will be emailed over today. The workload will be intense. But if you can pull it off, you’ll have your pick of post-grad programs, some of them very interesting indeed.’
My heart skips a beat and I can’t help my beaming smile. It hurts my face a little and I wonder when I last had cause to make this expression. Not for a long time.
He stands and I do as well, taking his hand with almost no hesitation when he offers it up for me to shake.
‘Thank you,’ I say.
His grip tightens slightly and I swallow hard. ‘If this is some kind of trick, a fabrication, you’ll regret it.’
‘It’s not,’ I promise, wondering what he thinks I could have made up when all the information was on his screen.
His eyes narrow at me. ‘I’ll see you around the building, then. Welcome aboard, Miss Evans.’
I nod, turning and leaving the office in a daze.
I did it. And not only that, a double major. As a senior!
Up yours, John Novelle.
Feeling happier than I have been in a long time, I practically skip to the elevators. I’m tempted to look around, but it’s almost nine and I want to talk to Lu before my shift starts.
I leave the Novelle Center and head back to the Quad. Grinder’s hatch is open and I wave to Lu as she flits around making drinks. She waves back and motions me inside .
But just as I open the door, I feel something hit my back and I gasp in pain, heat and wet exploding over my skin, shirt and hair.
‘Leave Richmond, you fucking child killer whore!’ a male voice yells as I turn around in shock, but whoever it was is already running off.
‘What the fuck?’ I hear Lu shriek from inside, and she comes barreling out of the door a second later.
‘Who was?!’ she demands.
I shake my head, my mouth opening, but no words come out.
Someone threw a cup of hot coffee over me, I realize.
‘Don’t you fucking come back here!’ Lu yells after the guy.
I’m ushered into the coffee shop by Lu. I hear her tell everyone who’s waiting that Grinder is closed and she bangs the hatch down.
‘Are you okay?’
I nod.
‘You’re not burned?’
‘No,’ I force out. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Change your shirt. There’s one in my locker. Do you wanna go home?’
She sounds so concerned that I smile and shake my head.
I go to the back and take off my shirt, looking in the hall mirror as I do. My skin is a little red, but I don’t think it’ll blister. The coffee wasn’t boiling.
My hands are shaking, I realize. The whispers are one thing. The names I hear under people’s breaths around campus I can tolerate, but this is the first time anyone’s attacked me because of the rumors surrounding me.
I take a few minutes to calm down and wait until my hands have steadied before I go back out.
I find Lu pacing behind the red counter .
‘This is getting out of hand,’ she says to me. ‘The threats were one thing, but?—’
‘Threats?’ I ask with a frown.
I haven’t even shown her the notes I got yet.
She winces. ‘We’ve had some ... letters under the door since you started working here. I didn’t want to bother you with them. I figured it was the sorority chicks and nothing else happened until today, so I thought ... Shit, I should have ... Look, if you want to go home, I’ll be okay without you, babe. And we should tell the campus rent-a-cops what’s going on.’
‘I don’t want to tell anyone,’ I say. ‘Then even more people will know and they’ll ask questions and ... no.’ I shake my head. ‘I don’t want to do that ... and I want to work my shift, if that’s okay with you.’ I look at her a little warily. ‘But if my being here is causing a problem ...’
Lu’s fierce hug surprises me, but I find I can bare it for a few seconds before she pulls away.
‘It’s not a problem,’ she says. ‘I’m not letting those cowards make me do anything I don’t want to do, and I don’t want you to not be working here.’
‘Wanna start early?’ she asks. ‘It was nuts this morning before I closed the hatch.’
‘Sure.’ I grab my apron from the hook and make sure my pad and pencil are still in the front pocket. Lu is reopening as I pull them out and I frown. There’s a third thing. An envelope.
It looks like the other two I got before.
I open it quickly and scan it, my heart in my throat.
Was the river cold, Daisy? Looked like it. You should spend less time having fun with your boyfriends and more looking into your mother’s death. I thought you wanted to know. Or maybe you’re afraid of the skeletons you might find in her closet.
Be seeing you, darling. x x
I’m being watched.
This one isn’t like the others. It’s darker, almost menacing. And masculine . But I guess it could be double bluff.
I put the paper down on the counter and stare at it, my chest pounding.
I need help, but the thought of talking to any type of law enforcement makes my stomach twist.
‘Lu? I need to talk to you,’ I call, trying not to second guess myself.
She looks back at me and frowns. Turning back to the hatch, she glances out and then puts up the ‘Be back in 5’ card.