by Non Pratt
But Daisy wasn’t done. Slamming the “Book of Zoise” shut with a clap, she straightened her spine, her gaze blazing out across the room.
“Are you just going to accept this?” When Daisy spoke, Esther gave her an admiring glance.
The Brethren stopped their shuffling about and arguing over crisps and turned to look up at her, and for a moment, Daisy felt the same heady surge of power that Jasper must have felt at the start of every session, faces turned toward him in hushed adoration, waiting for him to proclaim their fate.
“How many of us came here because we needed somewhere to belong?” There was an almost universal avoiding of her gaze. “Because it was hard fitting in, because we missed home, because we weren’t sure we were doing the right thing? We’re first-year students! That’s how we’re supposed to feel. Jasper and Elise know this—they were freshmen once, too. But instead of reassuring us, telling us that it’s normal to feel like this, they took advantage.”
“How is giving us free weed taking advantage?” someone piped up.
“You knew?” Daisy frowned, but her confusion was overshadowed by Esther’s dramatics.
“IT’S NOT FREE! They’re getting you to hand over all your stuff and selling it online. Zoise is nothing more than a front for a fencing ring! You’re neck-deep in the criminal underworld!”
Technically they were comfortably seated in the basement of a well-to-do suburb of Sheffield, but Esther had never been one to let the facts get in the way of a good narrative. Which meant it was probably best not to let her control that narrative.
“The point is,” Daisy persisted, “they knew we were vulnerable, and they exploited us. The belt system is set up to encourage us to give and give and give, until we have nothing left and we’re asked to leave. We might be numbed to the world while we’re down here, high on cookies and meditation, but the reason we came here—to university—wasn’t to avoid the rest of the world; it was to explore it. And I don’t know about you, but I prefer my friends not to drug me without my consent.”
The room erupted, crisps got tossed into the air, gowns were flung off in jubilation, and Daisy beamed out across the (not very impressive) crowd. As the group splintered into individuals once more, some went to look for their things in the closet—Reggie rejoicing in finding his signed Dan Brown book—while others ditched their robes and left through the back doors. This might be the end of Zoise, but it was the beginning of something better. Independence.
“I don’t think they’re going to need this anymore . . .” Esther said, picking up the Book of Zoise and flicking through the recipes as they followed the rest of the Brethren out the back doors and toward the front of the house. “There’s some really good stuff in here.”
Daisy slipped her arms around Esther and gave her a grateful squeeze.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” she whispered into her friend’s shoulder.
“We missed you, Daisy,” Esther said quietly. “A lot.”
“And who, exactly, are you?”
Susan scrunched up her face in frustration. Getting caught by Elise hadn’t been part of the plan. Time to improvise.
“Oh, er, hey.” She turned to face the doorway and adopted a slightly sheepish expression, mussing her hair up as she rubbed the back of her head apologetically. “I’m Susie. Nice to meet you.”
Elise wasn’t so tall. Susan could take her if she had to. Probably best not to, though. Daisy wouldn’t approve of bloodshed.
“I’m afraid I can’t exactly say the same.” Elise shifted her weight and crossed her arms, one eyebrow rising in challenge. Her hair was still slick from the shower, and her skin looked scrubbed clean, as if subjected to several rounds of exfoliation. “Why, exactly, are you rifling through Jasper’s things?”
“I wouldn’t say rifling . . .”
“I would, and I did.”
Susan’s attempt at a smile was as successful as a snowball fight in the Sahara. “Look . . .” She lowered her voice as if embarrassed. “I didn’t even know his name. It was just one of those things, you know?”
Elise acted as if she did not.
“Both of us were so . . .” Susan let out a breathless, dreamy sigh. The kind that implied pleasures of the flesh. “We just had this connection. So intense.”
Elise was tapping her foot.
“We barely even spoke. So wild.” She glanced at the rumpled bedclothes, the discarded socks and shoes and clothes, letting her wistful gaze and disheveled appearance do the talking. When Susan glanced over at the girl in the doorway, it was clear they hadn’t said enough. “I had hot sex with your housemate, and now I can’t find my bra. OK?”
It came out a little more confrontational than intended. Which was on-brand, really. Susan waited, watching to see if her play worked. She looked like she might have awoken after a night of wild and sweaty sex. Dishevelled was her signature look.
“You know it’s nine o’clock at night?” Elise said.
“Really? Is that the time?” Susan tried to look alarmed. “I must have slept in. Definitely time I got going.” She moved toward the door.
“Without your bra?”
“It wasn’t my best. I can get another.”
“Or a shower?”
“Can have one of those when I get in . . .” She made a gentle “May I get past?” movement, but Elise remained still, blocking the exit and scrutinizing Susan up close.
“You’re not exactly Jasper’s type.”
“That’s pretty rude. I might not be typical . . .”
“His type don’t usually wear bras.”
Susan tugged her shirt tighter about her. “Some of us need a little more support.”
Elise narrowed her eyes further, until they cut like knives into Susan’s. “Jasper’s type are usually men.”
Ah.
Susan shrugged. “I mean . . . university’s a time for experimenting, right?”
The two girls faced off for a second longer before Susan gave it up entirely. She should really have done a bit more background work before going in like this.
“Oh, whatever. I’m here to expose the Brethren of Zoise for the fraudulent scoundrels that we both know you are. Now, are we going to have a rumble or what?”
There was a furious banging and hollering coming from inside the van upon which McGraw and Ed Gemmell were leaning, waiting for Esther and Daisy to arrive.
“Jasper didn’t take it too kindly when we suggested he try meditating,” Ed Gemmell said, cocking a thumb over his shoulder as McGraw grinned, slow and warm and wide, handing Daisy the thermos he’d been holding.
Daisy sniffed tentatively.
“Restorative hot chocolate,” McGraw said. “No secret ingredients.”
Daisy smiled, feeling a little wobbly at seeing the boys there, too. “Thanks. I don’t seem to have the best of luck when it comes to my extracurricular activities.”
“No, well, about that . . .” McGraw said. “Ed and I were wondering if you wanted to form a splinter pool group. Just us three.”
“There’s no official timetable. We just pay membership to the pool hall and play whenever we want.” Ed Gemmell’s eyes wrinkled kindly behind his glasses. “How about it?”
But before Daisy could respond, there was a thump from above their heads like a bird flying into a pane of glass. The four of them looked up to see Susan hammering on an upstairs window.
“SHE’S TRAPPED ME IN HERE!” Susan screamed through the glass, accompanying this with very elaborate hand gestures that presumably meant “Get me out.”
Ed Gemmell rushed forward to find the front door locked.
“Around the back?” Esther suggested, but Daisy was looking up at the bay window with steel-strong determination. Handing Baby Gordon to Ed Gemmell, she sat down and dropped effortlessly into the briefest of meditations. The Brethren of Zoise might have been in this for the money, but that hadn’t stopped Daisy from attaining some next-level yoga skills.
Snapping her eyes open, Daisy
knew exactly what to do. Opening the van door, she fired the engine and steered the van so close to the house that one wheel ended up in the flower bed. Jasper’s hammering on the partition behind her had reached a crescendo, but with this kind of focus, it was no more distracting than a gentle, continuous hum. Opening the door, Daisy levered herself onto the roof of the van and cupped her hands to shout.
“Open the window and jump down!”
Susan opened the window, but only so she could shout, “ARE YOU INSANE?”
“I’ll catch you!”
“Why can’t a few of you just come in through the back and open the door?” Susan looked helplessly at the group huddled below, McGraw’s anxious frown, Ed Gemmell clutched up against Esther in concern. “This is a terrible idea.”
“Susan Ptolemy, do you trust me to catch you?” Daisy said with marrow-deep conviction.
Susan’s eyes met Daisy’s. Susan Ptolemy trusted no one.
But maybe she should.
The sound of her two best friends hitting the van roof and screaming as they slid off was one Esther hadn’t anticipated when she’d set out that night. As it was, she and the two boys hurtled to where Susan and Daisy were dangling down in front of the windshield.
With no great delicacy, Esther and Ed Gemmell helped maneuver Daisy off the roof and onto the ground. Only a couple of paces away, she noticed the tenderness with which McGraw guided Susan off the roof, arms sliding under hers to support her weight as she flopped from the roof and into his chest. Almost as soon as he’d lowered her to the ground, the two stepped apart, each looking in every direction except at each other.
A dull thud came from inside the van, followed by a faint, “Hello? Please . . . please can you let me out? Herbal tea is a diuretic. I’m dying for a pee.”
Epilogue
In many ways, things had simply gone back to the way they were. Reggie returned to his course, Daisy to her routine, and Esther to relying upon Ed Gemmell’s notes rather than attending lectures herself (anything good enough for the almost-impossible-to-please Vectra was good enough for Esther). Susan’s hackles still rose when McGraw’s name crept into conversation.
Except there were differences. No less important for being subtle. The ghost of Susan’s grudge no longer haunted her sleep, and when she saw McGraw, Esther would swear that there was something like fondness in the way Susan insulted him. While Esther might have embraced a lax attitude to academia, she was the one most likely to be found cleaning the communal kitchen, descaling the kettle, or ordering the food—and when she cooked, she locked her phone in her room to avoid distraction. So far, she’d only set the smoke alarm off once. And for Daisy, a return to routine was welcome, but it no longer felt necessary. If one of the boys suggested a spontaneous game of pool when she’d planned a late-night library session, she would accept. She felt confident enough that changing her plans wasn’t somehow letting other people down or even annoying them.
Still. That didn’t mean she wanted to be late for her Wednesday hot lunch in the S.U. with Esther and Susan. As the three of them queued, Daisy chatted contentedly to Esther, but Susan seemed on edge, checking her phone. All through the meal she kept glancing around, her revolting, ketchup-covered panini growing cold.
“Keeping your eye out for McGraw?” Esther said, with so much waggling of her eyebrows, they were in danger of falling off.
“Hmm?” Susan turned back to her friends with a distracted frown. “No. Actually. I’m looking for someone much worse . . .”
Esther and Daisy exchanged a look of alarm.
“. . . and there they are.”
As one, the three women looked across the fixed tables of the cafe area of the S.U. to see Jasper and Elise standing there, scanning the room. When Susan raised her arm to make the Zign of Zoise, Daisy nearly toppled off her chair in shock.
“Hey. Miscreants. Over here.”
Now that they had been exposed, Daisy struggled to see what it was that she’d liked about Elise. Sure, she was exceptionally pretty and well turned out, but as she approached, it seemed obvious to Daisy that her charm was an accessory she wore when someone was looking; it wasn’t a kindness that rose from within. Even Jasper’s boy-next-door vibe failed to raise so much as an eyebrow from Esther when he took the seat opposite hers.
“Daisy, we’re sorry . . .” Elise began.
“Not good enough.” Esther slammed a fist on the table, making the cutlery rattle on their plates.
But Susan shushed her before turning back to the erstwhile Brethren. “She’s right. We’re not interested in apologies.”
Daisy pressed her lips together to stop herself from objecting. Apologies were nice, but it seemed there was something else at play, judging by the look Susan was giving Elise, who sighed and took a package from her bag, a small padded envelope with the Zoise address on the front.
She laid it on the table and slid it across to Daisy.
“This is your necklace. We bought it back from the person we sold it to.”
A grateful little gasp escaped Daisy’s lips as she opened the envelope and tipped the gold chain and pendant into her outstretched palm.
“And the rest?” Susan asked. Pleased as she was that the irreplaceable item had been replaced, Daisy had given the Brethren a lot more than that.
Jasper and Elise exchanged worried looks. This time it was Jasper who spoke.
“Look. We tried . . .”
“Not good enough.”
“I know. Just listen—”
Susan uncrossed her arms and stood to lean over the table, so close that she could feel Jasper’s panicked little breaths tickling her skin.
“I believe I made our terms clear.”
Susan sat back down. Waiting.
Slowly, watching Susan as a French nobleman might eye a barely tethered guillotine, Jasper nudged Elise, who passed him an unremarkable brown envelope.
“We couldn’t get everything back.” Jasper held the envelope out. “So we’re compensating you in cash.”
“Esther. Please count it.”
Snatching the envelope, Esther thumbed through the contents twice and let out a low whistle before confirming, “One hundred and seventy-five pounds.”
Susan didn’t break eye contact. A trickle of sweat worked its way from Jasper’s hairline all the way to his left eyebrow. He swallowed.
“How about we make it an even two hundred?” he croaked.
Susan nodded. Once.
The transaction complete, Susan finally averted her gaze, breaking her eye lock with Jasper, who listed sideways onto Elise.
“You may go,” Susan told them. “I believe you have a few more people who need compensating.”
The two final-year students stood, Elise giving them a mutinous glare, a protective hand resting on Jasper’s shoulder as if he were the victim in all this.
Before they took another step, however, Esther blurted out, “Why’d you do it? I mean, the gowns and the cookies and belt system. It was so . . . organized.”
Elise brightened. “You were impressed?”
Giving Daisy a guilty look, Esther said, “Well . . . only in the same way I’m impressed that U2 still have a career. Reluctantly.”
“Look. I’ll be honest with you. It was for the CV.” When the three of them failed to respond, Elise leaned across the table, a gleam of desperation in her eye. “Do you know how tough the job market is? A Philosophy degree means almost nothing to potential employers, but how many other graduates can put ‘founded a profit-making yogic cult’ on their job applications?”
“Hopefully very few!” Esther said in alarm.
This time it was Jasper who was settling Elise, tugging the strap of her handbag as if to pull her away. “Leave it, El. They’re only freshmen. They’ll understand when the time comes . . .”
Once they were gone, Esther reached into the envelope and pulled out all the notes, fanning them out like playing cards, her eyes alight with joy.
“Two. Hundred. Pou
nds. Do you know what this means?”
“That one of your closest friends was horribly ripped off by two self-serving criminals who have no moral currency?”
“That I can finally download all of Enya’s back catalog?”
Esther shook her head, the gleam in her eyes growing brighter. “SHOPPING TRIP!”
Acknowledgments
Not only did this project introduce me to my favorite series of comics, but I also had the joy of meeting their creator, John Allison, who is as dry and funny in real life as in his writing. Thank you so much for letting me hang out with Susan, Daisy, and Esther; it really was an honor.
Erica Finkel, my editor at Abrams, has been the Actual Best to work with, and I hope I may do so again one day. I’d like to thank both the team at Abrams and BOOM! for everything they’ve done to help the story along as well as Juliet Mahony for her admirable agenting.
Not having gone to Sheffield University, I needed some insider advice, which I got from Emma Hartick, the most excellent medical-student adviser I could possibly have asked for, and from Rachel Ellis, who didn’t seem to mind how many times Susan insulted English Literature students. Thank you also to Mariam Khan and Patrice Lawrence for being patient with me, and to Grace Latter for tacitly giving me permission to nick your name, if not your personality.
Hugest of thanks to two people essential to the whole project: fellow Giant Days fan Robin Stevens, the first person I told about working on this and definitely the most enthusiastic, and my friend Molly Ker Hawn.
As always, thank you to my family, especially Pragmatic Dan, who offered McGraw’s calm to my out-of-control Susanish tendencies.
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