“Did you fake those bruises?” I ask, more out of shock than the need to confirm. I know more about makeup than he ever will. “What?” He covers both sides of his face with his palms, rather than just the left. “Your bruises are melting.” “No, they’re not,” he says, but he sounds uncertain. Griffin leans forward. Todd turns his head away. “Stop! Stop it!” “Oh my God,” I say. “They are fake.” I wondered how they could last so long. It’s been two weeks since the Midnight God kicked his head. “That’s low.” Griffin straightens. “His jaw injury might be fake, too.”
