Page 37 of You Said I Was Your Favorite

“That’s great.”

“It’s okay.” I shrug, wondering why I told him.

“It’s great,” he repeats, his gaze fixed on me. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

“I want to be the best I can be.” He already knows about my extra hard class schedule. I came clean the day after I made the changes because I can’t keep secrets from this man. He’s the only family I’ve got. “And a B isn’t the best.”

“It’s better than failing.”

“Arch Lancaster got an A. He didn’t miss a single answer.”

“He’s inhuman,” Dad says vehemently, making me giggle.

“Like a robot,” I add.

“A troubled one.” Dad shakes his head, stabbing his fork in his salad bowl almost viciously. “You’re leaving him alone, aren’t you?”

I nod, my voice solemn. “Yes, Daddy.”

“I’m glad.” He chews, his expression thoughtful. “You’re too good for that boy.”

“I’m not interested in him like that,” I say too quickly. “And he’s definitely not interested in me.”

“He’s a damn fool if he’s not. Look at you, Daisy. You’re a beautiful girl. Sweet and smart and kind. All the boys you go to school with are blind idiots.” He averts his head, staring out the window, wincing against the waning sunlight. “Maybe I should be glad they don’t notice you. None of that lot is worthy of you.”

I know he’s trying to make me feel better but all he’s doing is reminding me that no one really cares about me. Just the faculty and staff, and most of their care is probably out of obligation. Out of loyalty to my father, who’s been such a good employee over the years. Someone they can all count on.

Including myself.

I give up on eating because my appetite still isn’t the best and I clean up the kitchen, loading up the dishwasher as full as I can so I don’t have to hand wash anything tonight.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Dad says as I’m finishing wiping down the counters.

“I’ll be outside,” I tell him, almost rolling my eyes when he stops short at my reply.

“It’s almost dark.”

We both glance toward the window. “The sun is still out.”

Kind of.

“It’s dangerous after dark.”

“It’s a gated campus,” I point out, but his voice is firm.

“Still dangerous. Too many boys out roaming around in the night.”

I burst out laughing at how ominous he sounds.

“I’ll stick around the house. I promise.”

Once he’s gone, I rinse out the wash rag and leave it in the dish drain, then make my way outside. I don’t really want to take an actual walk. More like I just need fresh air to clear my head for a bit.

Without even planning on it, I find myself in the gardens behind the library, where all of the ancient statues stand. Most of them are of old Lancasters, and I stop in front of one in particular, staring at the man’s face. He looks young. The name etched below his feet surprises me.

Archibald Lancaster.

Not the Arch I know, but I can see the family resemblance, even etched in marble. I drink him in for far too long, staring at his face. The hard set of his jaw. The firm line of his lips. His stare is cold, even though he’s not real, and it’s as if the longer I look at him, the more he seems to come to life. Leaving me completely unsettled.

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