That's when it dawned on me, and I blushed again.
“Oh my God.” I stammered, appalled at my own stupidity, and slapped my own forehead. “Thank you for standing up for me!”
He laughed, and my legs turned to jelly when I felt one of his strong arms around my shoulders. I took a deep breath.
He smelled like cedar and vanilla. “Nah, nah, nah, Daisy.” He lingered on my name, pulling me along the hallway with him.
I felt flushed, haunted, and ashamed. People stared at us as if they couldn't believe their eyes, and I never felt so fat and ugly in my entire life. It was as if the newcomers' beauty emphasized my unattractiveness. “The thank you will be lunch, and then you'll show me Silver River. Sound good?”
“Uh...” I felt a twinge in my chest. There were thirty dollars in my wallet, and my mom expected it to last me the whole week.Eating outside school was a privilege I rarely had. I hooked my thumbs into the straps of my backpack and bit my lower lip. “There’s an Arby’s on Main Street...”
Seriously, Daisy? Did you really just suggest taking the senator's son to an Arby's? Stupid. Idiot. Imbecile—
“I love Arby's. My dad and I used to stop at one whenever we went to sell the foals. It was fifteen minutes from Blue Forge, and the meat in the sandwiches was amazing.”
I was shocked. The senator's son ate at Arby's? I didn't want to let my surprise show, even though I knew it wouldn't matter. Lester wouldn't even notice. His eyes were lost somewhere ahead of us, and he still had his arm around my shoulders.
“We're in the same class, you know?”
I held my breath.
We were?!
He stopped in front of the classroom. My classroom. As he pulled away, his hands went back into his pockets and he smiled as if understanding my confusion.
“When I got here, they were singing that…” His smile faded, turning into a sour expression.
“That crap...” My face burned again. He had heard my nickname. “The principal gave me a list with the names of the class, to help me settle in. I assumed you were Daisy Peonie Mary Parker, is that right?
"Yes." I said, but then corrected him with a shy whisper, “And it’s actually Peonia, not Peony. It means the same, but my Papa chose the Italian version."
“Cool.” He simply replied and smiled, nodding his head toward the classroom. “Will you show me where you usually sit?”
Guess it’s time for my walk of shame.
Not only had he heard my mean nickname and seen me being pushed against the lockers, he was about to learn another humiliating detail about myself: I sat alone in the empty seats at the back of the classroom because my classmates were disgusted to sit next to me.
We reached my seat. I put down my backpack without looking at him, hearing as he whistled.
“This is a bit far from the board, isn't it? Can you see anything from here?”
I shrugged, placing my books and notebook on the desk. “I can see enough. But you can sit further forward, if you want. There are still some empty seats.”
“Why don’t you sit there, then?”
I straightened up and looked at him. His expression was serious. Too serious. “I’m more comfortable here.”
He sighed and threw his black backpack on the desk right next to mine. “If that’s the case, then this is where I’ll be staying.” He sat down, too big for the furniture, and I wondered if he played football too.
“What class is this?” he asked.
I shrank into my seat. “History.”
Chapter 2
Daisy Peonia Mary Parker
September, 2012
