Free The Mad Scientist's Daughter by Cassandra Rose Clarke Page A

the merry-go-round. She lay her head in his lap. The surrounding darkness settled over her like a blanket. He rested his left hand on her shoulder. She closed her eyes. She thought she felt his fingers stroking her tangled hair but maybe it was just the tingle of energy as she lit up the darkness. She couldn't be sure of his touch but the idea of it soothed her.
      When Cat finally began to come down, just as the sky was turning pale pink, Finn drove her home. Her head was still gauzy and confused but she told him to wait in the woods for a few hours so they wouldn't come in together – the things she learned from her friends at school.
      "Just act like you were hanging around outside all night," she said. She was less worried, in that moment, about getting in trouble herself – she could probably talk her way out of any serious punishment. Really, she wanted to protect him. She wanted to protect him because he had protected her.
      Cat slipped in through the kitchen door. The house was silent. Her parents were still asleep. She splashed her face with cold water from the sink and then went upstairs, peeled off her sweaty, smoky clothes, and slept, dreamlessly.
     
    Cat's parents never said anything. Maybe they genuinely didn't hear her come home; maybe they preferred to remain in a state of denial. Either way, Cat was relieved.
      Her slate was full of messages from Miranda and Oscar. She deleted them all without reading them. She had the entire weekend before she had to go back to school and deal with the repercussions of the party, and so she put Monday out of her mind. She wanted to pretend her friends didn't exist.
      She spent a lot of time in Finn's room, weaving while he worked on his computer. She didn't care what she made – she needed to do something with her hands. Sometimes Finn watched her.
      "May I try?" he asked.
      "Do you know how to do it?"
      "Theoretically."
      Of course. He knew everything theoretically. Cat gestured for him to sit beside her on the bed, and pushed the table with the loom over in front of him and handed him the shuttle.
      "Go at it," she said. "I'll tell you if you're screwing up."
      "Thank you." Finn picked up the shuttle.
      Cat leaned back against the wall. His movements were clumsy, like he wasn't used to the feel of the yarn, but he did everything correctly. It calmed her, watching him. She'd been on edge all day. Distracted. Anxious. Betrayed.
      "Finn," she said as he hunched over the loom. He looked up at her expectantly. "Thank you. For picking me up. That was… kind. And thanks for not ratting me out."
      "It was no problem."
      Cat laughed. "Oh my God, you almost didn't sound like a butler for a minute there."
      "Dr Novak wrote a new linguistic program for me. He's attempting to incorporate more idioms into my speech patterns."
      "Idioms are a bitch."
      Finn stopped weaving and looked out the window above his desk. Cat watched him in profile. He looked so much like a person. A person she would notice if she saw him at school or at one of the shows at the VFW hall, if she'd never met him. Then he glanced back down at the loom, back over at her.
      "That was also an idiom," he said. "It wasn't included in the list Dr Novak provided for me. I've added it."
      "It was an idiom about idioms."
      "Yes." Finn smiled.
      Cat looked at the fabric Finn had woven. The stitches were perfect. They did not look handmade. They'd been done by a machine.
      "This is very enjoyable." Finn nodded toward the loom.
      "I know," said Cat. "You can do it as long as you want." She laid her head on his shoulder without thinking. He turned his face toward her and his hair tickled across her forehead and she laughed and he went back to weaving. She watched the movement of his hands and for the first time in a long time she considered the mystery of Finn: the mystery of the clockwork inside his tall slim body, the circuit boards and memory