16. Daughter
I grab for the new jeans, then for the old ones instead, so I can bleed into them freely, pull on the nearest shirt as fast as I can get it out of the wrapping, and grab a sandwich bag out of the kitchen.
Aaron’s gross-out immunity falters for the first time when I hold out the bag for him to stuff the fungal growth into it, but he does so with due haste.
Corinthian will never be able to say I didn’t provide them with all the data I could.
I’m burying the plastic-sealed growth in my backpack when the door opens.
I must have lost track of Dad’s schedule, and he never keeps track of mine, so when he walks in to find me not only at home but with a guest, it takes a few seconds for us all to adjust to each other’s presence.
Aaron stands up to greet my dad with a handshake, a
