Giant Days , livre ebook

For Robin , my fellow Giant Days fan
PUBLISHER S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Pratt, Non, author.
Title: Giant days / by Non Pratt.
Description: New York: Amulet Books, 2018. | Summary: Although very different, Daisy, Susan, and Esther become fast friends their first week at university so when Daisy joins a club and begins behaving very strangely, Susan and Esther investigate.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018009604 | ISBN 9781419731266 (hardcover with jacket) | ISBN 9781683353942 (ebook)
Subjects: | CYAC: Best friends-Fiction. | Friendship-Fiction. | Secret societies-Fiction. | Universities and colleges-Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.P8888 Gi 2018 | DDC [Fic]-dc23 U.K. Paperback ISBN 978-1-4197-3488-5
Copyright 2018 BOOM! Studios
Jacket illustrations by Michael Heath
Book design by Jay Marvel
Giant Days TM 2018 John Allison
Giant Days created by John Allison. All rights reserved.

Published in 2018 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
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Amulet Books is a registered trademark of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
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1 FIRE IN THE HALL
It looked as if someone had started a small fire in a prison block. Only the prison was actually part of the student residence for Sheffield University. J-block, Catterick Hall, to be precise. Smoke wafted gently from one of the upper windows, wispy fingers caressing the bright October sky . . . and clawing at the lungs of anyone unlucky enough to be standing downwind. J-block had been evacuated, and a Saturday-afternoon assortment of first-year students littered the quad. Those still dressed in pajamas and bathrobes mixed with those already preparing for the night ahead-party clothes on, hair half-styled, and makeup in the experimental stage. In the midst of this lackluster chaos stood Susan Ptolemy, Daisy Wooton, and Esther de Groot.
The three were a mix and mismatch of aesthetics. Daisy s clothes were as bright and colorful as Esther s were dark and macabre. Susan s preference for function over fashion gave her the look of a stray dog that had been shoved inside some comfy jeans and a tattered checked shirt. The three friends were, nonetheless, united in their focus.
While everyone else on the quad was likely speculating as to who d started the fire, Susan, Daisy, and Esther were more concerned with working out which of their neighbors had vomited in the sink of the fourth-floor bathroom, thereby blocking it. A crime far greater than accidentally setting fire to the kitchen, which could totally happen to anyone .
That one, Susan said, pointing across the grass. A girl with a neat blond ponytail was standing with a duvet over her shoulders, asking no one in particular if the university would compensate her for smoke damage to her signed Ed Sheeran poster.
How do we know it s her? Daisy s glare wavered. Accusations weren t to be thrown around lightly.
Show your workings, Esther said.
Susan narrowed her eyes further. Her investigative instincts remained razor sharp after a summer spent honing them the hard way on the cruel cul-de-sacs and low-key criminal underworld of Northampton, her hometown. Look at her duvet, that hideous floral pattern . . .
Flowers. The hallmark of a reprobate, Esther hissed.
I like flowers, said Daisy, her voice getting smaller. Nature s pretty.
. . . look closer, and you ll find those aren t petals but vomit splotches, Susan finished with relish as her friends recoiled.
No!
She needs to wash that duvet.
Susan took a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her checked shirt and lit one, an all-knowing smile emerging as she blew a thin stream of smoke between her lips.
There were some skills Esther s privileged upbringing couldn t pay for and Daisy s homeschooling couldn t teach. An education Susan was only too happy to provide.
She might want to be a doctor in later life, but Susan s employment history until now had been erratic. Like most people, she d started with whatever job she could find, working in one of her hometown s many warehouses-until she turned whistleblower on their substandard (and illegal) business practices. Blacklisted by respectable businesses and criminals alike, Susan applied her unique skill set and keen sense of social justice as a freelance investigator. Provided she turned over the criminals, the police turned a blind eye to her lack of license.
Some people had skeletons in their metaphorical closets; Susan had accrued a plague pit of human remains.
Not that Esther and Daisy needed to know. That was the joy of university: a fresh start for everyone. Even someone as jaded as Susan. The only things her new friends knew about her were the things she d chosen to reveal.
An awkwardly cleared throat and some shuffling alerted the trio to the presence of a new arrival: Ed Gemmell.
Isn t that your kitchen that s on fire? he said, frowning up at the fourth-floor window.
Ed Gemmell, fellow J-block resident, was a young man with the personality of a cinnamon roll and the spine of partially cooked spaghetti. He was inoffensive and perfectly tolerable, and Daisy and Esther greeted him with the kind of delight Susan reserved for finding a lost pack of cigarettes.
Nodding, Esther waved majestically at the smoke billowing from the window. Behold the consequences of crossing a dark princess, a baby giraffe, and sarcasm personified . . .
I m the giraffe, right? Daisy whispered.
No, Daisy. You re the dark princess. Susan rolled her eyes and blew smoke out of the corner of her mouth.
Cross us, and you shall burn! Esther dropped to her knees and cackled demonically, raven hair cascading down her back as she tipped her head up to claw at the sky.
Her friends took a step away.
Should you really be confessing to arson? Ed Gemmell asked as everyone turned to stare.
It s not arson if it s an accident, Susan said. The three exchanged complicit looks: Esther s, guilty; Daisy s, strained; Susan s, reassuring. No one was going to prosecute over a self-combusting baked potato. Even if it had self-combusted because of Esther s extreme microwave negligence.
Anyway . . . No one s allowed back in yet, so I m going to the library to -Ed Gemmell edged a little away from Susan and shot her an inexplicably cautious glance- um, to get some books out.
I hear the library s a good place for that. Susan watched him closely, noting the irregular bob of his Adam s apple and the way his moley little eyes darted about behind the rectangular lenses of his wire-rimmed glasses.
If she wanted to, she could crack him like an egg.
Unnerved by such scrutiny, Ed Gemmell turned to Esther with a hefty dose of desperation and zero optimism. I take it you, er, wouldn t fancy coming with me? Like Esther, Ed was an English Literature student. Unlike Esther, he seemed to understand that this involved reading books.
Why would you think that? Esther said, getting up from where she was still kneeling on the ground and dusting off her knees.
Because you never do any work? Susan suggested.
Because we need to stay here in case the Fire Monitor does another head count? said Daisy.
Because you re still dressed for bed. To his credit, Ed Gemmell was clearly doing his best not to acknowledge the expanse of long, lean, bone-white limbs that emerged from Esther s shortest of skull-print bed shorts. These were accompanied by a T-shirt bearing the slogan Die God Botherers , which may or may not have been a reference to the lyrics of an obscure German grindcore band, and a pair of fleecy slipper socks that belonged to Daisy.
Counter proposition! Esther extended an imperious finger. We all go to the student bar for a remedial beverage.
Ooh, they do a lovely hot chocolate, Daisy said.
Daisy! Such extravagance! Esther laid a hand to her chest in mock outrage.
But . . . Ed Gemmell waved helplessly at Esther s attire.
Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Esther put an arm around him and pinched his cheek. That s the glory of a student bar: They won t care. Besides, I ve been to lectures wearing less.
As much as Susan enjoyed this unwitting sadism of her friend, repeatedly drawing Ed Gemmell s attention to how little she was wearing, it was getting chilly, and she didn t want to have to deal with Esther s inevitable hypothermia. Susan finished her cigarette and dropped it to the ground, placing the toe of her Converse over the butt and grinding it into the earth.
Come on. Let s go see if the barman remembers us from last time . . .
I hope not, Daisy said in alarm.
Susan gave Ed Gemmell an arch look that set him further a-blither. You coming? she asked.
Maybe later . . . library . . . he said, scuttling off in entirely the wrong direction.
Giving his retreating figure a moment s further contemplation, Susan shrugged off her suspicions and turned to follow her friends.
There were several residence halls located on different sites around the city of Sheffield. The newest ones resembled all-inclusive hotels, with clean expanses of glass and easy-to-navigate gravel paths, signs marking the locations of multiple laundry rooms, dining halls, lounges, and bars. Some had on-site shops supply