Page 35 of You Said I Was Your Favorite

“If you say so.” Her voice is full of doubt, but she walks away, stopping at a desk to help someone else.

Exhaling loudly, I reach for the pack of Post-it notes I keep in my backpack, grabbing my pencil and scrawling a few words across it before I tear it off and attach it to the inside of the book, placing it right on the bookmark.

Smiling, I close the book and deposit it back into the desk slot, wondering if she’ll answer me.

She better.

TWELVE

DAISY

Today hasn’t been great.

I had a paper due first thing in English this morning and while I turned it in on time, I had second thoughts about how I wrote it from the moment I handed it to Mr. Winston. But it was too late.

What’s done is done.

In American Government, we had a pop quiz I wasn’t prepared for. Everyone could leave early when they finished, and of course, Arch Lancaster was first out the door. I even heard Mr. Briggs tell him, “One hundred percent. Impressive,” before Arch flashed him a smug smile, turning his attention toward me—why, why, why—and then promptly exited the classroom.

I skipped second period—office duty—claiming I needed to catch up on homework. Vivian told me that was fine, and I hid out in the library, unable to concentrate on anything but my thoughts.

Like how I was purposely avoiding Arch and I didn’t understand why. Just the idea of being near him made me nervous. Confused.

Worried.

Lunch was miserable too. I stood my ground by remaining in the dining hall versus running away and hiding, which was what I really wanted to do. I got another salad but sat with no one. Was ignored by everyone and for whatever reason, that hurt more than usual. I don’t know what I did wrong, or what I did to deserve this, but it’s starting to hurt more and more. That I have no friends. That no one seems to like me.

Am I snobbish? Unlikable? I try so hard, but maybe Arch was right? Maybe I try too hard? I don’t know.

I can’t wait to get out of here. Go somewhere new. Start my life over.

By the time I’m in statistics, I’m settling in at my desk with complete relief, knowing there are only two more classes and then I can finally go home. All I can think about is hiding away in my bedroom, wrapping a blanket around me and hopefully reading my book that I’ve missed since I forgot it in this class yesterday.

Setting my backpack on the floor, I duck my head and peer into the storage cubby beneath the desk, relief flooding me when I see my book. I pull it out, ignoring the people filing into the classroom, cracking open the spot where my bookmark is nestled, frowning when I see the blue Post-it stuck in between the pages.

What’s your favorite part?

I lift my head, glancing around the room. Who wrote this? This means someone was thumbing through my book and saw all the pages I annotated and highlighted.

That’s…embarrassing.

“Oh, you found your book. I’m so glad,” Mrs. Nelson says as she stops by my desk.

“Yes, I forgot it here yesterday,” I tell her, wondering if she knew who had their hands on it. Who might’ve written the note. “Do you happen—”

“Mrs. Nelson, I have a question,” another student calls, distracting her. She offers me a quick smile before she takes off, eager to help whoever it was that asked.

Leaving me alone with the book. And the note.

I crack it back open and stare at the words. How they’re written. Very brash and bold, which I didn’t realize handwriting could be. Like a boy wrote it.

My entire body flushes at the realization. This is so embarrassing. Why would he want to know my favorite part?

That’s just…weird.

I look at the last words I highlighted, reading them again and again.

He looks at me as if I’m the only thing he sees and my heart swells with a foreign emotion. I think this is what it feels like to be…

Source: www.allfreenovel.com