Chapter 6: You Said I Was Your Favorite: Chapter 6

“Are you serious? You’re going to suspend me?” I’m crying. More like sobbing. Clutching a gob of crumpled, damp tissues in my fist, the endless tears streaming down my face.

“You give me no choice, Daisy.” The pained expression on Matthews’ face is little consolation to the turbulent emotions currently swirling inside me. “School policy is that a student cannot put hands on another student.” I start to protest, but Matthews is one step ahead of me. “It doesn’t matter what he said. Words are one thing. Physical violence is another.”

What Arch said was the most hurtful thing someone could’ve ever said to me, and I’m sure he knows it. That’s why he said it. He knew it would get to me.

Mommy issues. He doesn’t even know my story, but he knows enough to hurl those two words at me and stab me right in the heart.

He’s a prick. A dick. An asshole.

All words I don’t normally like to use, but he deserves to be called them. Every single one of them.

“Why didn’t he get suspended for what happened between him and Cadence?” I ask, feeling defiant.

Matthews’ eyebrows shoot up, as if he’s surprised that I would question him. “I investigated that matter further and it turns out Mr. Lancaster didn’t touch Miss Calhoun.”

“She head-butted him.” I’d heard the stories whispered around campus and regret I didn’t actually get to see it.

“And she’s been properly punished, just like Mr. Lancaster has. This matter between the two of you is completely different.” His expression turns the slightest bit pleading. “You leave me no choice, Daisy. You slapped Arch. Right in front of Vivian. She saw the entire incident. I have to suspend you.”

Sitting up straight, I try my best to keep my composure as I whisper, “For how long?”

“Two days.”

Two entire days. “And will this go on my school record?”

He nods, remaining quiet. Looking helpless.

I crumple, the fresh tears coming, and I bury my face in my hands. The headmaster lets me cry it out, tapping away on his keyboard, and I wonder where Arch is.

Probably laughing at this very moment while my life has been ruined.

“Will he get in trouble?”

“Who?” When I lift my head and glare at him, Matthews clears his throat. “You mean Arch Lancaster.”

I nod, steeling myself for his answer.

“He’ll be written up and given a week of detention.”

“That’s it?” I’m incredulous.

“It’s standard for his behavior.”

“He’s a menace.” I leap to my feet, suddenly too irritated to sit still. Not like I can pace around Matthews’ cramped and crowded office. There are books and things everywhere. “He needs to be stopped.”

“Slapping him in the face isn’t the way to stop him.”

I pause, staring at the headmaster, whose hands are probably tied because the boy I slapped just so happens to be part of the family that owns the school. The boy who comes from immense wealth, while I’m the girl with the dad who is the school groundskeeper, and to the Lancasters, we’re nothing but lowly servants who work for them.

“When does my suspension begin?” I lift my chin, desperate to be brave.

“Right now. You can come back to class first thing Thursday.”

Without a word, I grab my backpack and sling it over my shoulder, turning my back to Matthews and heading for the door.

“You’re going to be okay, Daisy,” he calls after me, his tone soft and I suppose reassuring. “This suspension won’t hurt your record. Not too badly. You’ll still get into a good college.”

If he really cared, he wouldn’t suspend me at all. He’d fight for me.

Without a word, I exit Matthews’ office and find that no one is around. Not even Vivian and thank God, not Arch either. I make my way out of the admin office and walk down the hall, keeping my head down, grateful it’s empty.

I can’t believe this is happening to me.

The moment I’m outside, I burst into a run, heading for the cottage on the outskirts of campus I share with my father, knowing I should probably seek him out first and let him know what happened.

But I’m sure Matthews will tell him. I doubt I’ll get punished by my father for what I did, but I hate the thought of disappointing him. Because he will be disappointed.

I can guarantee that.

By the time I’m in my tiny bedroom and shedding my uniform, I’m crying again. Mad at myself for losing control. Madder still that Arch can get away with pretty much anything, while I’m over here suffering. Dealing with the aftermath.

There’s no point in working hard and trying to get a better grade point average compared to him. He’s got me beat.

At least he doesn’t have a suspension on his record.

“Ah, Daisy.”

I glance up from where I’m lying on the couch, my dad standing in the open doorway. I must’ve dozed off or else I would’ve prepared better for him returning home from work.

I can see it in his weather-worn face and his tired eyes. He knows what happened and his disappointment in me is written all over him.

“I’m sorry.” I sit up, tears prick the corners of my eyes, and I’m so sick of crying.

The tears come anyway, streaming down my face.

He slowly shuts the door and makes his way into the living room, settling on the edge of his recliner, so he can study me. “Want to tell me what happened?”

Taking a deep breath, I launch into my story, trying not to leave too many details out. He wants to know the truth and I will give it to him.

Dad winces when I mention the mommy issues’ statement. “How did that boy know about your mother?”

I was dumb enough to tell him, I want to say, but instead, I shrug. “I might’ve mentioned it once.”

“You actually talk to Arch Lancaster?” There’s shock and awe in his voice, like I’m referring to a celebrity.

“Only recently.” Another shrug. I’m uncomfortable talking about him with my father, that’s for sure.

“Mmm hmm.” That simple sound is full of doubt. “I would recommend…staying away from that boy.”

“Why?” I know my father is overprotective of me, but he doesn’t tell me to stay away from anyone. He’s always encouraging me to try and make friends but for whatever reason, no one wants to get close to me.

Well. I know the reason. I’m not on their level financially.

“He’s trouble. Wild. Reckless.” Dad shakes his head. “He’s done some things on campus that I’ve looked the other way about, but no longer. It shouldn’t matter what his last name is. That boy is a terror.”

I almost smile, remembering how I told Matthews that Arch was a menace. “You don’t need to fight my battles for me, Daddy. What happened, happened. I shouldn’t have slapped him.”

“He’s cruel.”

“And I should’ve told him so. I didn’t need to hit him. Resorting to violence isn’t the answer,” I say, hating the shame that rushes over me.

My father studies me, his gaze kind, despite the hint of disappointment I see there too. He just wants what’s best for me. We’re all each other has, and I know he wants me to continue pursuing my education and become someone he can be proud of. That’s all I want too.

Slapping a boy and getting suspended isn’t the path to success. I need to remember myself around Arch Lancaster, and not give into my impulses. Impulses I didn’t even know I had until I actually spoke to this boy.

“Have you gone outside and tended to your roses? They looked a little thirsty last I checked,” Dad says, gratefully changing the subject.

We had a few rose bushes in our backyard that were originally planted by my mother, whose name was Rose. A couple of years ago, I got into helping my father maintain the rose garden on campus. One, because they remind me of my mom, and two, because I actually enjoy taking care of them. There’s something so rewarding about watching a rose grow and bloom into something so beautiful, and so fragrant. Dad even planted a row of roses just for me next to his garden and they’re my own little project.

A project I might have to neglect here and there, thanks to my school load. Soon fall will be fully upon us and the cold weather will sweep in. With that, the bushes will go dormant for the most part until spring.

But right now? The branches are still heavy with blooms as they usually are late into summer, and I should probably go clip them.

“Might help take your mind off your troubles,” Dad adds, like he knows I needed to hear that.

A sigh leaving me, I rise from the couch and go to my father, bending over and dropping a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Dad.”

“For what?”

“For not being mad at me.”

“I think you’re mad enough at yourself already, sweetie.” His smile is gentle and I rush out of there before I do something silly.

Like burst into tears again.

Once I’m outside, the heat hits me like a furnace. The temperature has been extra high lately and it’s awful. Thankfully, I’m in a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, my hair still in a now messy braid, bright pink slides on my feet. I grab my bucket and clippers and wander over to the rose bushes, smiling when I see the deep red blooms wave in the gentle breeze.

My dad was right, I think as I concentrate on clipping off the dying roses, dropping them into the empty bucket. This was just what I needed to clear my head. Being outside—despite the heat—taking care of the roses my father planted just for me. The flowers that make me feel close to my mom. I have homework waiting for me, but I’ve got plenty of time to work on it. Besides, I needed this. My ugly thoughts are slowly leaving me with every breath I take.

I’m so into my little clip and toss rhythm, I don’t even notice someone approaching until I hear a voice.

His voice.

“Hey.”

I lift my head, tightly clutching the clippers in my fingers when I see who it is.

Arch.

He shouldn’t get too close. I might want to lunge toward him like Cadence did, but I have the advantage. A weapon in my hand.

“What do you want?” My voice is as cold as I’ve ever heard it. I could tell Arch he’s on our property but that would be a lie. We don’t own this patch of land within the Lancaster Prep campus.

Arch’s family does.

He stares at me for a moment, quiet for once in his life and I realize that he looks…distraught.

Oh please. I must be reading him wrong.

“I tried to get Matthews to relax on your suspension but he wouldn’t listen to me,” Arch says.

“I slapped you. I deserved to be suspended,” I say flatly, repeating what Matthews told me. I know what the headmaster said is true, but it still hurts.

A lot.

“I provoked you.” Arch shakes his head. “I went too far.”

Notice how he doesn’t apologize. “I think that’s a trend.”

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

I don’t like that he’s here in my territory. Being in his presence leaves me uneasy and I don’t understand why. It’s not just anger either. There’s a weird tension that grows between us any time we’re close to each other and I don’t get it. Maybe he’s just my enemy and my body recognizes when he’s near. I don’t know.

“From what my dad just told me, you’re pretty reckless. You don’t think before you speak,” I explain.

His smile is faint and I hate how my heart seems to trip over itself when I see it. He shouldn’t affect me. Not like that. “That’s been a constant issue for me since I started here. Pretty much my entire life, actually.”

“Well, now your issue has become mine and I’ve been suspended for two days, so thanks for ruining my life.” I offer him a sugary sweet smile and resume my task, grabbing at a perfectly good rose and clipping the stem with extra force, realizing my mistake too late. This is what I get for being too dramatic.

Guess I’ll take that one inside and put it in a vase with some water and enjoy it before it dies.

I know people love to fill their homes with real flowers and enjoy receiving them as gifts, but I prefer my roses to stay in the ground and live for as long as possible. Where they show off their beauty and put a smile on my face every time I go outside.

I’d probably be sad if a boy brought me flowers, though I’d try my best to never let him know. But those flowers?

They’re only going to die anyway. And I don’t like it when things die.

Or people.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Arch says, his voice soft.

“Right. Cruel words just fly out of your mouth without warning. Noted.” I nod, turning my back to him and concentrating as hard as possible on the rose bush in front of me. The roses are this peachy-orange color that were my mother’s favorite color. She said it was sunshiny and bright, like me.

More tears threaten and I muster all the strength I’ve got to fight them off. I refuse to cry in front of Arch. And he’s still there. I can feel him standing on the edge of the garden, watching me. Probably wondering why I’m not reacting to what he says. He deserves to be kneed in the balls.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he asks, genuine confusion in his voice. When I look at his face, I see the confusion in his gaze too. He doesn’t get it.

He probably never will.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because all you have to do is exist and everything is handed to you? I bet you’ve never had to work for a single thing in your life. You say awful things and you don’t even get in trouble for it. I’m the one who’s being punished.” For slapping him, but after what he said and what I’ve been through, I think my reaction was justified. “You’re not a nice person, Arch. Not even close.”

“Everyone loves me—”

I interrupt him. “Everyone is scared to cross you. Or they’re kissing up to you to stay on your good side. Big difference.” I glare at him for a moment and all he can do is stare back, his eyes wide. Like I just shocked him with the truth.

Good. Maybe he needed to hear it.

Ignoring him, I return my attention to the roses, my hair streaming across my face when the breeze kicks up. I bat it away, the bucket dropping from my hand and landing on its side, all of the old, dead roses rolling out, their petals scattering everywhere.

“I’m going to talk to Matthews again,” Arch finally says, raising his voice to be heard above the wind, which kicks up another notch. The pine trees that surround our cottage sway, creating a white noise that I love to listen to when I’m trying to fall asleep and I keep my bedroom window open. “Be prepared to come back to class tomorrow, Daze.”

My skin prickles with awareness at hearing him call me that. I don’t like the nickname. Makes it seem like we’re friends when we are absolutely nothing like that.

I know one thing for certain.

Arch Lancaster and I will never be friends.