Upsy Daisy: A First Love College Romance

by Smartypants Romance

  “I know. They already sent the letter. I have to be out by Sunday.”

  “Where will you go?”

  I shrugged.

  He rubbed his forehead and muttered, “Okay, lets save that for the end.”

  “I think . . . you might be able to get out of being expelled. But I need you to tell me the truth about everything that happened with this whole ‘eat my cookie’ business.”

  Of course Julian would choose that to remember.

  I hesitated. James already hated my guts. But telling Julian about her financial situation felt like a betrayal that was a step too far.

  “Daisy, I am trying to help, but I can’t if I don’t know what I’m up against. I trusted you with information that was just about as delicate as could be. You told me that we shouldn’t have a friendship based on threats. I’m offering you one based on trust.”

  “Why are you helping me?”

  He stared at his desk for a long time before he answered. “Since we are being honest with one another, I am going to tell you all my reasons and you will not hold them against me.”

  I nodded in concession. It seemed Julian couldn’t help being a little imperious.

  “Because I get wanting to escape pressure. That’s why you lied right?”

  I nodded, even though his question was rhetorical.

  “I guess I can see myself in you in some ways.”

  I opened my mouth to politely object but he continued before I could. “Not in our personalities. But in our life circumstances; I guess I empathize with you in that way. And you need help.” He glanced back down at the sheet of paper on his desk. “You need a lot of help. I’m in a position to help you and so I should. And . . . my best friend wants me to help you and he doesn’t know how to ask me, so I’m doing it without his asking. Don’t get me wrong, Daisy, you and Trevor—y’all need to work on your communication. And you two have the worst timing of anyone I’ve ever seen. But despite all that and despite what he says or how he’s acting right now, I know he still cares about you. Because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be upset at all. So regardless of the fact that he’s kinda being an ass right now, I know that there will be a point where he’ll come to his senses and in that moment he’ll be glad that I’m helping you.”

  I don’t have it in me to hope that Julian was right about Trevor.

  “Those are the largest and most altruistic reasons . . . but I’d be lying if I didn’t also acknowledge that as an aspiring judge, your father is someone I greatly respect and admire. After everything he’s done to open doors for people like me . . . Well, it would be an honor to help anyone in his family.”

  Julian was actually blushing a little as he hero-worshipped my father. I smiled slightly because he was right; my dad was the best. Julian had been more honest with me than I had any right to ask for. I was not in a position to ask anything of anyone trying to help me.

  As if he’d read my thoughts, he cleared his throat and smiled his half smile. “Was that honest enough for you?”

  I nodded.

  “All right then. Now it’s your turn, little chicken. Tell me how you ended up stealing all the cookies from the cookie jar.”

  I told Julian the whole story about James, the books, and the cookies. I even told him about Charlie getting the stuff for us and us smuggling it out in duffle bags from the service corridor and baking it in the home economics kitchens.

  When I finished my story, Julian was quiet for a moment and then said in frustration, “James should’ve asked me for the books. I would’ve loaned them to her.”

  I stared back at him blankly.

  “Why would James ask you for anything? She doesn’t really even know you.”

  To my knowledge, she’d interacted with Julian only a handful of times and those interactions hadn’t all been pleasant.

  He shot me a disbelieving look.

  “What are you talking about? She sees me twice a week. I’m the TA for her English 202 class. Even when I’m not teaching the class, I’m usually in the class to hand back papers at the start or to collect assignments at the end. There is no way James didn’t know I could help her get those books.”

  He added more quietly as if he was speaking to himself, “She’s so stubborn. She just didn’t want my help.”

  I felt compelled to defend my friend . . . former friend. “Or she didn’t think you would give it.”

  Either way, James knew she had another way to get books for the second semester, and she sat on that info in order to get me to agree to sell that second batch of cookies.

  I am going to kill James. Just as soon as I get her to speak to me again.

  Julian said, “Well, after hearing that story, they only caught you on half the criminal stuff you did.”

  I hung my head. “Will the university refer me to the police for criminal charges?”

  “I don’t know. Right now the only criminal charge I see is possession of stolen goods. But they can’t prove without a shadow of a doubt you stole them. But we’re toeing a fine line. I want to help you stay in school without pissing in the face of the administration, because if they feel like you’re trying to pull one over on them or that you’re not remorseful, then they’re absolutely going to refer this to the law. And it won’t just be possession of stolen goods. If the cops investigate it’ll be trespassing, conspiracy to commit theft, and all of your nobility—”

  “Nobility?”

  “Daisy—Odie, James, and Charlie are just as culpable as you are. All of your asses should be lined up answering for this craziness together. Just because you lied to them about one thing doesn’t absolve them of their responsibility over something else. Those two things aren’t really related and you’re letting your guilt over lying to your friends cause you take responsibility for something that you didn’t do by yourself.”

  “What are you saying? Are you saying I should tell on my fr—” I stopped. “You’re saying that I should tell on James and Odie?” Telling on Charlie was out of the question. He had the most to lose and was the least involved.

  He exhaled. “Dai—”

  I cut him off. “Would you do it? Would you rat on Trevor?”

  “No.”

  I raised my eyebrows meaningfully.

  “I wouldn’t have to rat on Trevor because no matter how angry he was he’d never let me go down alone for any shit we did together. Daisy, if you’re hell bent on shouldering the blame alone, then here’s what I got—you should preemptively acknowledge what you did was wrong and try to make a case for why you should be allowed to stay.”

  “And you think this is my best chance?” I bit my thumbnail. Confessing seemed risky.

  “I think it’s your only chance. You can try telling the TDC you’re not guilty and try to get out of everything you’ve been accused of. But there will be an investigation. Your friends are going to be questioned—that’s inevitable. There were a hundred people at our party that night, and all of them saw the three of you together. Not to mention you were already caught with contraband in your room.”

  Julian had very valid points, but I was overwhelmed and something in my expression must’ve given away how close I was to losing it.

  He softened his tone. “I’m not saying what y’all did wasn’t stupid, but it wasn’t serious. Even the changing your name thing is weird as hell, but you didn’t impersonate another student, you didn’t cheat. You still did all your work. You just did it under a different name. In all this foolery, no one got physically harmed, and the university hasn’t gotten any bad press from it, so it’s a little puzzling to me why they’re taking this to the nth degree.

  “Actually, it’s not puzzling. I think they’re trying to make an example out of you because you’re Daisy Payton, and I hate that. The assumption is probably that you’re spoiled and you think the rules don’t apply to you. When I said everybody has a hot plate and no one gets cited for it, I meant it. The normal punishment is that it gets confiscated, end of story. But I think if yo
u go in there—humble, sorry and ready to make amends, then you have a chance.”

  The irony that my last name would be used as a reason to punish me instead of protecting me would have been a little funny if I’d been less terrified.

  “The school already reclaimed all the stuff y’all stole for the second batch of cookies, so there doesn’t need to be any restitution there. How much money did you even make from selling the first batch?” Julian inquired.

  “One hundred and sixty dollars.”

  Julian’s voice was incredulous. “Y’all made almost two hundred dollars selling cookies in one night? I have been wasting my time preparing for law school. I should’ve been banging down the door trying to get into the Girl Scouts!”

  I smiled despite myself. “We met a very generous patron who paid us very well to leave a party.”

  His mouth snapped shut and his blush was back. He rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like, “It was cheaper than bail.”

  He cleared his throat, shifted in his seat, and then said, “And how much of that money did you keep?”

  I stared at him confused. “I just told you James needed the money for books. Why would I keep the money?”

  “Daisy . . .” He made a strangled sound.

  Comprehension dawned. “Let me get this straight. You risk getting kicked out of school by taking the fall and you didn’t reap any of the benefits?”

  “It wasn’t like that . . .”

  He stared at me with his mouth open. Then prompted, “Then what was it like?”

  “James . . . needed help.” I struggled to clarify because the way Julian framed it was technically true, but not how it happened.

  “This is some bullshit. James needs to come forth with that information.”

  “James isn’t even speaking to me. She’ll never do it. Also, she would most likely spit in my face if she knew I told you about her financial situation.”

  “What about Odie?”

  “She’s not speaking to me either.”

  Julian rubbed his temple. “Okay. We will figure out this stuff later. In the meantime, you need to think about which one of those three options you want to take, and I need to eat—Actually, are you hungry?”

  “I am starving.” I hadn’t had dinner or breakfast due to my dining privileges being withdrawn.

  “Okay then, we need to eat breakfast. And then you need to pack.”

  He was right. I did need to pack, although I had no clue where I would go.

  Julian walked me to his car and this time I didn’t hesitate getting in.

  As he pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic the thing that’d been on the tip of my tongue all morning long spilled out.

  “Julian?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  He was quiet for a second. “What, no tears this time?”

  “Shut up, Julian.” I laughed.

  “Daisy?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Trevor

  I decided to skip my third class of the day and head home around four. I needed to get some sleep. I hadn’t been sleeping this week.

  This semester.

  I was past tired. I was past cranky.

  I was exhausted and I was irritated.

  My prodigal parents had shown up, completely unannounced, at o’ dark thirty last weekend and had been single-handedly responsible for derailing my senior year homecoming weekend.

  Years. Years without a visit.

  Then they’d showed up completely unannounced on my doorstep. I’d been in a state of perpetual discombobulation ever since.

  My father, upon popping up on my doorstep, calmly explained, “A man gets tired of having to chase his offspring down via telephone. Eventually he figures he should come see him directly.”

  They’d informed me that we’d be having breakfast with the Paytons and that I needed to get dressed quickly because Mr. Payton was waiting in the car and we needed to go fetch his daughters from campus.

  I’d wanted to tell my parents they could leave without me, since they’d been totally fine living their life without me thus far.

  The nerve. They showed up like they’d just seen me this past summer. Like we’d spent the past few years together as a family.

  I’d wanted to tell my father in particular that he did not get to show up and order me around like . . . well, like he was my father.

  But I’d wished to maintain the peace. Julian had been preaching to me about working on my relationship with my parents. “Look on the bright side, at least you know your parents love you.”

  I wasn’t sure about his assessment but I could—given how his parents behaved—see why he’d say that.

  So instead of telling my father and mother to leave, I’d gotten dressed and headed out to the car. An eerie sensation of déjà vu hit me as I recognized the face of the older man driving. The unsettling feeling quickly gave way to a knot that bounced between my stomach and my throat.

  I had no particular ill will against the Paytons. In fact, I hadn’t thought of or heard the name in years. But Mr. Payton had been the one to drive me from Green Valley to Charlotte, so my only real memory of him was of him taking me away from home. By that time, my parents had sold their car in an effort to stave off foreclosure. I didn’t remember the drive all that well, but I did remember Mr. Payton had his daughter with him, and she’d been sick. As in, laying-on-me-warm-and-feverish, in-and-out-of-sleep-the-whole-long-car-ride sick. We weren’t in the same grade at school, and I vaguely recalled she must’ve been maybe seven or eight to my eleven.

  I also remembered how I’d felt during that ride.

  Abandoned.

  Confused.

  We’ll come fetch you later. We promise.

  Immeasurably sad.

  I pushed aside the pang at the memory—at the promise.

  At the broken promise.

  I remembered feeling kinship with the girl in the car that day. The type that could only exist between children. The feeling of being totally powerless along with another small human that had been tossed into the same scenario—that could understand with no words how you felt. Because that sick little girl hadn’t wanted to be in the back seat of that car any more than I had. We’d held hands and lain on one another and I’d felt a sort of comfort.

  My comfort during the ride to school had been successfully tuning out most of the conversation around me. I’d listened for my name and answered whatever question was thrown my way without embellishment.

  How were my grades? Great.

  What were my plans for after graduation? Still deciding.

  Somewhere it had dawned on me that one of the sisters we were about to pick up from the dorms was the girl that was in the car with me that day.

  I didn’t remember there being two girls in the Payton family. Then again, there was a lot I didn’t know or had forgotten about Green Valley families. I’d wondered if I’d crossed paths with the girl from the car. I’d wondered if she’d recognize me, and immediately realized I’d been silly. We’d seen each maybe a handful of times that I could recall in my life, and the last time had been almost a decade ago. Of course she wouldn’t.

  When we’d arrived, I’d been allowed by the RA to go upstairs since I was escorted by my parents and then . . . in a matter of seconds Daisy Marie Payton had detonated my world.

  That’s how it’d felt. Like a bomb had gone off and the walls and the ceiling and the floor were falling down around me. Comprehension clicked in rapid succession. Seeing Mr. Payton speak to his daughters. Realizing his daughter was Daisy. And that meant she’d been the little girl in the car.

  And then realizing his daughter is Daisy and that meant she’d lied to me.

  She’d lied to me a lot.

  I’d realized she was from Green Valley and must have known that my parents had given me away.

  Oh. God.

  Between my parents arriving and Daisy’s dece
ption, I hadn’t been able to get a grasp on my emotions. I’d felt like I’d had an out-of-body experience, like I’d been observing someone else’s life. And that was before I’d even gotten around to comprehending that Daisy’s room looked like a baker’s pantry.

  I’d felt like a damned fool.

  Note to self. The next time you and a girl don’t want to talk about some topics? Make those the first things you discuss.

  Even after my parents and I had left, I hadn’t been able to turn my mind off. I wondered if Daisy had known who I was the whole time. I’d had no clue about her identity but she’d lied to me about everything else, so maybe this was some sort of sick joke she’d been playing.

  On top of all that, things had not gone well with my parents. I’d told them I wasn’t feeling well, mostly because I had felt like I was going to be sick. It must’ve been believable because they’d let me return to my apartment without too much fuss.

  But not without consequences.

  My mother likely knew that once I returned to my room I was going to disconnect my phone and not open the door for the remainder of the weekend. She’d decided to strike while she had the advantage over me in my out-of-sorts state. And that was how she’d extracted a promise from me that I’d return “home” for the Christmas break.

  Walking back to my apartment now, I wondered how I would get out of spending the holidays in Green Valley with my folks.

  Because I was absolutely not going. The idea was barely tenable at the start of the semester before everything happened with Daisy. It was completely impossible now that it meant sharing a town with her.

  Daisy.

  Over the past few days I’d tried not to think about her. If I thought about her, then I’d have to feel the sensation of my heart going crazy still, even after she’d lied to me, and that pissed me off. And I’d have to stave off the longing that welled up in my chest, even now.

  I almost wanted to laugh, because the timing had almost come together after all.

  After Julian had told me about his plans to tell Daisy the truth, I had decided to seek her out. I’d decided what I felt for her was worth taking a chance on, if she would have me, then I—we—should give it a try. I’d wanted to start over and I’d been grateful that the timing had finally, finally worked in our favor.