Upsy Daisy: A First Love College Romance

by Smartypants Romance

  I knew what it was like to have doubts and I wanted to set any that he had about me to rights. I wanted to let him know that this wasn’t a big deal, that it changed nothing. I wanted to put his mind at ease.

  I waited and waited and waited. When it became clear that Trevor wasn’t going to show, I told myself the session was already cancelled and that there was no reason to worry. That his absence didn’t mean anything. But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t shake the worry.

  Why should he give you the chance to explain when you didn’t give him the same chance? I told that voice to shut up and headed back to my room, realizing I needed to apologize to my friends next.

  As soon as I’d heard James’s voice I knew what had happened. My friends returned to the scene of the crime because they hadn’t wanted me to go down alone.

  They didn’t know everything, but they knew enough. And they were owed an explanation. Therefore as soon as I apologized, I would come clean on the whole story and then let them know that I would not reveal their part in the great cookie caper.

  I knocked on Odie’s door first with a quick rap-rap-rap.

  There was no motion from inside, no response at all.

  I knocked again, and called to the door, “Odie, this is Daisy. Please let me in.”

  No response.

  The knot in my stomach churned harder with each successive knock, but Odie never came to the door.

  I headed to James’s room next and she did open the door, sliding out and shutting it behind her. Obviously Odie was inside and she didn’t want to see me.

  My stomach felt queasy and my chest felt hot and tight at the thought of sweet and kind Odie avoiding me.

  James stepped into the hallway with her arms crossed and looked down at me with that famous impassive glare.

  She stared at me for a beat and then raised her eyebrows as if to say, “What do you want?”

  All at once I realized I was so used to James being the one to take over, to initiate conversations, that it felt one hundred times worse to have her be totally silent.

  “James—I am so sorry,” I blurted. “I wanted to tell you hundreds of times. I wanted to come clean and just . . .”

  “But you didn’t,” she said with a shrug.

  “I was going to at the end of the semester. I was so afraid it would change the way you saw me.”

  “The way we saw you? What about the way you saw us? What, were we some poor charity cases? You wanted to know what it would be like to mingle with the common folks instead of your usual caviar eating set?”

  “I’ve never had caviar in my life, James. I didn’t grow up . . . that way.”

  “What way? Rich? Because I grew up dirt fucking poor, Daisy. You can’t even imagine.” Anger was radiating off her in waves that were almost palpable.

  “James, come on, you know me. You know how much you and Odie mean to me. You’re my best friends.”

  She flinched when I said “best friends” and then she responded quietly, “Daisy, we can’t be your best friends. We don’t even know who you are.”

  She looked patient and calm, like she was explaining something obvious to a child. If Dolly hadn’t already sliced my heart out earlier it would’ve been stabbed in that moment.

  “You made me think you were like me. That you could understand. I couldn’t even afford books and you were probably just laughing at me. Did you call your rich friends and tell them you’d come up with a crazy plan to help the poor girl get books? Was this all a game to you, Daisy? Because it is my real fucking life. It is Odie’s real fucking life!”

  “Call my rich friends? I don’t even have any rich friends, James! I didn’t even want to go through with the plan. You and Odie wanted to go through with it and I’m the one taking the rap for it!” I felt a hot pang of panic shoot through me because this apology was going all wrong.

  James eyes flared and she said, “So what now? Do you want me and Odie to apologize to you, Daisy? Are we supposed to grovel at the feet of the spoiled little rich girl who’s been lying to us this entire time? Should we be grateful that you’re going to take this slap on the wrist that they surely would’ve expelled us commoners for?”

  My heart was racing and my hands couldn’t stop shaking. James was icing me out and I could not get through to her.

  “James, please! I can make this up to you. I can . . . just tell me how to make this right. I will do whatever it takes.”

  She looked at me for a long time and then her face changed from angry and withdrawn to a little sad.

  She exhaled deeply and shook her head. “Daisy, our entire friendship was built on lies.”

  She turned the doorknob and took a step back and I sensed my window of opportunity closing.

  “It wasn’t! I was really being myself when I was with you and Odie. All I lied about was one letter of my last name.”

  “And where you’re from.”

  Dammit! “Yes, that too.”

  “And what your parents do for a living.” I technically hadn’t lied about that but now was not the time to bring that up.

  “I—”

  “And who your family is. And how much money y’all have.” She said the word money like a curse.

  I looked her dead in the eyes so she could see just how sincere I was. “James, I am so, so sorry. Please. Just tell me how to make this up to you.”

  She smiled sadly and said, “You can’t make this up to me. I’ve learned the hard way that nothing undoes a wrong. And nothing stops people from doing it again, no matter how many promises they make. I do not forgive people and you are no exception, Daisy Marie Payton.”

  She closed the door in my face.

  I returned and only left my room for the cafeteria as soon as it opened on Saturday morning. I grabbed a muffin and ate it on the way back to my dorm. I didn’t have much of an appetite for the rest of the day, so I spent it hiding in my dorm room, sleeping in a cocoon of numbness. Occasionally I would wake and go to Odie’s door and knock, but she never answered.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Daisy

  The consequences—the scholastic ones, that is—began rolling in swiftly.

  On Sunday I got word via letter that I was being kicked out of my dorm. I had a week to vacate the premises. Another irony of ironies it was signed Director of Residential Affairs, Bessie Mitchell.

  On Monday, a note was hand delivered to me in my macro-economics class, instructing me to visit Dean Gwinn immediately after the end of class.

  When I arrived at her office, I was caught off-guard.

  Trevor sat in the corner at a small table. He didn’t look up when I entered.

  Dean Gwinn was impersonal with none of the hints of humor I witnessed before. She didn’t overtly mention what I’d done, the only indicator that she knew was the way she drew out the Y in my last name when calling me Ms. Payton.

  She explained that until a verdict was reached in my case, I was still a student and that I was expected to continue all of my coursework. I listened, but every few seconds my eyes drifted to Trevor, willing him to look at me, willing our eyes to connect so I could see if there was still the same magnetic pull as before.

  He steadfastly refused to look at me.

  I was so distracted with Trevor, I almost missed her saying, “Effective immediately, Trevor Boone is no longer your mentor. You will need to talk to my secretary and schedule a meeting time with me. I expect a full reporting of your grades this Friday.”

  And then Trevor did look up at me. I saw those amber eyes, beautiful as ever, flat, hard, and full of accusation.

  The hope I’d been holding onto that Trevor would want to see me, talk to me, know me, vanished in a split second, and I realized from the expression on his face Trevor didn’t want any of those things at all.

  That evening, when I arrived back to what was still my room for the next six days, I had two more slips of paper slid under my door. The first one was from University Dining Services:

  Pen
ding the results of the investigation, your dining privileges have been revoked.

  - Doretha “Mrs. Dot” Bushnell

  The second paper was a notice that listed all the rules in the Code of Student Conduct I was accused of violating, along with where I could find a resource on campus to help me navigate the university’s judicial system.

  The list of citations was even longer than I’d expected.

  “Jeopardy of public infestation” was my favorite one. “Egregious theft of school property” was the most serious one. Actually no, “falsification of student identity” was the one that was most likely to get me expelled.

  I got to the line that read, The University reserves the right to refer the student for criminal charges in the case of theft or other illegal acts, and took a deep calming breath, but I was unable to find my calm.

  I had no place to eat, very shortly I’d have no place to live. I might be facing criminal charges. I was almost certainly going to get expelled from school. My father and sister weren’t speaking to me, and neither were my friends. Trevor was finished with me.

  I lay down on my bed, fighting against the tide of emotions rising in me.

  I lay down on my bed feeling numb and worn out, and I welcomed both feelings.

  You did this, Daisy. You did this to yourself. You don’t get to cry. Worse things have happened to you in your life, Daisy. Crying won’t fix it. It’s already done, all you can do is accept it.

  “There’s no use in crying over spilled milk.” My mother’s words suddenly popped in my head.

  My mother. I wanted my mother. I need my mother.

  I miss my mother.

  I didn’t even realize the tears had started until I felt them on my cheeks. And then I let go and I really, really cried.

  I cried because if my mother were here, she would’ve told me no matter how badly I messed up or failed that things were going to be okay. She would’ve told me that she loved me. She wouldn’t have made excuses for me or taken over and fixed everything, but she would’ve told me that she’d help me figure out how to make things right. I cried because she was not there and instead of hearing my mother’s beautiful voice all I heard was silence.

  And then in the midst of a sob, a thick choking spasm of anger rocked me. Why aren’t you here, Mommy? You said you’d always be there for me. You promised you’d fight. You promised nothing would happen to you.

  Because she had promised all those things. I’d become paranoid, especially after Ado died, that something would happen to my sister or my parents. My mother had laughed and reassured me that she and my father would be old and getting on my nerves telling me how to raise my own kids one day. My mother would never get to know my children. My brother . . . oh God. Would my brother even know me now? If he were alive, he wouldn’t even recognize me.

  The racing thoughts wouldn’t stop, and the tears wouldn’t stop. It felt like the switch I used to control my emotions, to numb everything, had been broken. The dull ache that I’d carried inside me constantly since I’d lost my brother and then my mother bloomed and spread until all I could feel was pain; lung collapsing pain. I couldn’t catch my breath with how hard I was crying. Sobs wracked my entire body; the emptiness and loss felt so acute and like their deaths had only happened moments ago.

  Things will never be okay again. Things will never be the same again.

  I lay there thinking of my family.

  I thought of how my father had had his heart broken three times—once when we lost Ado, then when he lost the love of his life last October, and again by how much I’d hurt him today—and I cried some more. I thought about how Dolly had been trying to hold us all together and how she was right—I had been inconsiderate, and I’d hurt her. But she was also wrong; I didn’t avoid Dolly because I was angry with her, I avoided Dolly because she reminded me of my mother. I thought about Trevor and how maybe he could have been my first love, but now he was just another thing that I’d messed up. I thought about my friends and how they hated me and how there was nothing I could do change it. All the while I cried. I cried until my chest hurt and my eyes were swollen and still I couldn’t stop crying. I cried until my nose was swollen shut and I hiccupped. Every emotion that I’d tried so hard for so long to avoid was coming down to bear on me at once and I couldn’t stop crying. After a long while, sleep won over the tears and I drifted into oblivion.

  The next morning I awoke with a start, scrambling to get my bearings. I heard three quick knocks at my door again, and scrambled out of bed daring to hope that maybe James or Odie decided they wanted to talk to me.

  It was completely dark and my eyes are almost swollen shut so I stumbled on my way to the door and yelped painfully as I stubbed my toe. I snatched the door open and my hope evaporated instantly.

  That’s what you get for hoping, Daisy.

  One of the RA’s I recognized from room check stared back at me, likely taking in my disheveled state, my puffy swollen eyes, and the tissues that were littered all over my bed.

  She pursed her lips and said matter-of-factly, “You have a visitor downstairs.” Before I could ask who, she’d turned and left.

  I’d already decided I wasn’t going to class today. Instead, after I finished talking to this visitor, I would make my way over to the building listed in the letter as the place for students to get help navigating the judicial process.

  When I got to the lobby it only took me a second to spot my visitor. Julian P. Marshall stood against the wall, in his navy blue peacoat and charcoal gray slacks.

  His eyes widened in surprise as he took in my disheveled state and then he nodded to himself. When I was standing directly in front of him, he said, “Took you long enough.”

  It was eight o’clock in the morning and I’d already been disappointed once already. I couldn’t allow myself hope that Julian was here on Trevor’s behalf, so I spoke plainly. “Well, I’m not accustomed to having visitors at eight a.m. What are you doing here, Julian?”

  “You look like you need a friend, Daisy.”

  A knot welled up in my throat. I’d never in my life needed a friend more. I couldn’t speak or I’d cry, and I was already mighty tired of crying so I nodded.

  “Then I’m here to be a friend, and hopefully, keep you enrolled.”

  No longer armed by the thin layer of fog I’d been wearing around my emotions for as long as I could remember, it was totally logical that I would cry in the lobby right in front of Julian.

  He reared back in shock, huffed a little laugh, and then draped me in a half-hug and patted my shoulder awkwardly. This was not the uncontrollable torrent of tears from last night. I stopped almost as soon as I started. Julian looked at me, squinted his eyes like he was trying to determine if I were truly done crying, and then said, “All right, little chicken, let’s get out of here.”

  On the walk to Spence, Julian explained to me that the Tribunal Disciplinary Council, or TDC, was made of the Dean of Student Affairs, two faculty members and two students. As student body president he’d been asked to be one of the students that were a part of the council.

  “I declined,” he said with a smirk. “But I was a junior senator last year and was a member of the TDC then, so if you want it, my guidance is available to you, free of charge.”

  “Thank you.” I exhaled gratefully, stepping into the cramped space as Julian held the door for me.

  I took a seat at the desk next to Julian and put my head down on it.

  Julian laughed.

  I turned toward him, head still on the desk. “What?”

  “Nothing—just there are twenty pieces of furniture in this office and you choose the one spot that belongs to Trevor. This is our office and that’s his desk. You two can’t get together but you can’t seem to stay apart, either.”

  I closed my eyes. It was bad enough being in his space. I didn’t want to think about Trevor because I didn’t want to cry again; I had stuff to do today. It felt like my emotions were having an autoimmune re
sponse, like they were overreacting to every emotional stimulus after having underreacted for so long.

  I rose and went to sit in the seat by the windowsill.

  He laughed again and shook his head. I didn’t ask why because I didn’t want to know. I couldn’t play musical chairs with every single seat in this room. I wasn’t at his desk anymore; that was going to have to be good enough.

  “Now, do you have the piece of paper that shows which rules you’re accused of breaking?”

  I fished it out of my purse and handed it to him.

  I watched as his eyes bounced back and forth reading line after line.

  Julian began to frown. Then he sighed. His frown deepened, then he sighed again.

  Then he flipped the page and continued reading, his eyebrows bounced up. “Violation of the fire code? What . . .?”

  “Ah. Hot plate,” I responded.

  He took his glasses off, rubbed his eyes, and sighed.

  “Well, you don’t do anything by half measures, do you?”

  “I’m a Payton, Julian,” I deadpanned. “We don’t know how to do things by half measures.”

  He squinted at me some more, but a smile tugged at his lips. “A Payton—you sure? Cause I met a girl a few weeks ago—looked just like you too. Said her name was Paxton something or other. Uncanny resemblance.”

  “Shut up, Julian,” I said, cracking a small smile.

  He put his glasses on and got back to business.

  “I’m not entirely sure who you pissed off . . .”

  It was my turn to raise my eyebrows because Julian knew exactly who I’d pissed off.

  The slight smile was back at his lips. “Pissed off inside the administration but they threw the book at you. I don’t even know if I’ve ever seen anyone get cited for having a hot plate even though we all know we’re not supposed to have them.”

  He continued reading the paper in his hands. “Well, you’re definitely going to get expelled from your dorm. There’s nothing I can do about that. You’ve got too many hits against you in that area.”