You Said I Was Your Favorite (A Lancaster Prep Novel)

There. That statement shut Archibald big mouth Lancaster up for about a minute. Even his obnoxious friend John, aka JJ, goes quiet, looking like he might’ve swallowed his tongue.

No one likes to talk about death, especially people my age. I don’t like talking about it either, but I didn’t know what else to say to get him to leave me alone.

Hitting him with the truth seemed like a good idea.

“Archie,” his girlfriend Cadence whines and he turns to her, ignoring me completely and only then do I exhale, my shoulders slowly falling back into place, instead of being hunched up around my ears.

He makes me uncomfortable. Arch Lancaster. I know he prefers to be called Arch, but it was fun calling him by his full name earlier. Seeing the irritation flare in his icy blue gaze. He enjoyed giving me grief and it was nice to give him a taste of his own medicine.

I remain quiet, relieved when JJ turns and faces forward, leaving me alone as well. I shift to the right, my legs as far away as they can get from Arch’s sprawled stance, though I tilt my head in his direction as subtly as possible, trying to spy on his conversation with Cadence.

The perfect, beautiful Cadence who comes from a wealthy family and wears expensive Prada loafers—I only know they’re Prada thanks to the prominent triangle label right on top of her shoes—and a full face of makeup every single day. I always wonder what time she gets up in the morning and how long it takes her to get ready.

Way too long, I bet. A full face of makeup for me is mascara and a tinted lip balm, though I’ve always loved watching Get Ready with Me videos when I’m bored, which is often. I don’t have a lot of money to spend on cosmetics, so I don’t really buy them, though I wish I could. I’d give anything to get all dolled up in a fancy designer dress and go to the city. I follow some of the girls in my class. The exceptionally rich ones who are already living a glamorous, jet-setting life, and the majority of us aren’t even eighteen yet.

“…are you still angry at me because of the party?” Cadence asks Arch.

“You chewed me out for two hours,” Arch reminds her, the irritation in his deep voice obvious.

He has a nice voice. He also has a nice face.

Too bad he’s a complete jerk.

“I was drunk.” She makes it sound like that’s a forgivable excuse. “So were you.”

“Not drunk enough to forget what you said.”

They go quiet, their silence tension-filled, despite everyone yelling and carrying on while we wait for Matthews to finally start the assembly.

I’m over it. I want to get on with my day and go to class.

“I didn’t mean any of the things I said,” Cadence finally says, full of remorse. “I was just feeling mean. You know how I get when I drink.”

“You keep making the same complaints about me. About us,” he reminds her. “And I can only tolerate hearing it for so long.”

“What exactly are you trying to tell me?” Cadence’s voice rises, the tone sharp.

“Assume what you want.” He shrugs.

“Are you trying to break up with me?”

I look away, keeping my back to them. Pretending I don’t hear what they’re saying because wow, she was loud.

“Keep your voice down.”

“Just tell me, Archie! Do you want to break up with me?”

Everyone sitting around us hasn’t uttered a peep. We’re all spying on this conversation and it’s so obvious.

“Jesus, Cadence…” A ragged sigh leaves him and I finally glance his way to find Arch is covering his mouth with his hand, his gaze dropped to the floor. Tension rolls off him in palpable waves and I realize that yes.

Yes, he definitely wants to break up with her.

An irritated noise leaves Cadence and she jumps to her feet, glaring down at Arch with narrowed eyes. “You’re starting senior year off the wrong way, Arch. It’s like you don’t even remember how powerful we were together. You’re making a mistake, dumping me. No one dumps me.”

“What is that, a threat?” He tilts his head back, his gaze colder than usual.

“I’m merely speaking the truth. You’ll regret breaking up with me. I’m going to make your life hell.” She starts walking, pushing past Arch, stepping directly on my new loafer, squishing it with her Pradas and making me wince.

She doesn’t care. Doesn’t bother apologizing either. Cadence pushes past the rest of the students sitting in the row and makes her way out of the auditorium.

“Miss Calhoun, where do you think you’re go—” Matthews’ question is cut off by the loud clang of a slamming door, irritation making his eyebrows rise. His gaze zeroes in on Arch. “Are you behind this?”

“Of course not,” Arch retorts, his voice loud enough that it carries across the auditorium.

Matthews stares at him.

Arch stares back, his expression one of pure boredom.

“All right then,” Matthews finally says, leaning into the microphone on the podium, his voice booming. “Good morning and welcome to Lancaster Prep!”

The headmaster’s voice turns into nothing but background noise when Arch glances over at me, our gazes meeting, the slow, sly smile curling his lips stealing my breath. My heart starts beating faster just from the way he’s looking at me.

As if we share a secret.

I can only stare at him in return, feeling caught. Ensnared in his charming trap. Arch Lancaster has never looked at me once in all the years we’ve gone to school together. And he’s definitely never spoken to me before either. But we know of each other. Not just because we’re seniors and in the same class. Grade point average-wise, he is my nemesis.

My arch nemesis, ha ha.

But seriously, he’s ranked number one in our class and I’m number two and that just…infuriates me. It doesn’t seem fair that someone who is rich and good looking, whose family’s name is on all the buildings on campus, also just so happens to be incredibly smart. I work so hard to get good grades and I feel like everything comes easy to him. He doesn’t even seem to try. He barely shows up to class. I’ve had a few with him over the years and he ditches more than he attends.

But he’s always there on test day. Pop quiz day. Project turn-in day. He gets his work done, receives a perfect grade and moves on with his life.

I swear the entire system is rigged.

Resentment builds within me, my constant internal struggle, but I squash it down. I refuse to let him make me feel bad about myself.

I also refuse to fall under his spell.

Rolling my eyes, I look away from Arch, focusing on Matthews, who’s boasting about the rigorous academic program at Lancaster Prep and how it’s unparalleled. The best in the country, if not one of the top schools in the world. I wonder if someone is recording this to use to promote the school to inquiring parents.

I do consider myself lucky to attend this school. I’m one of the rare scholarship students who goes to Lancaster. They don’t have many scholarship students—the school is that elitist and snobby. Why offer a scholarship when there’s a waitlist to get in, right? In the end, it’s all about the money.

That’s life. Dad has told me more than once. Money makes the world go round.

I wish it wasn’t true, but I know he’s right. Spending five days a week with the offspring of extremely wealthy and powerful people will teach you a lesson or ten that has nothing to do with what happens inside the classroom.

Going here is preparing me for real life, I suppose. And how I don’t want to spend my time with people who are too self-absorbed to worry about the travesties in this world. The minute I graduate, I’m leaving. I’m waiting to hear back on the application I put in for a summer abroad program in France that starts a week after graduation.

I feel it in my bones I’ll get in. I’ll be gone all summer. And if I get into college—no ifs, I will definitely get in, I just don’t know where yet—then I will barely have to be here before I leave, once again, and start my new life. I’ll miss my father, but he wants what’s best for me and is encouraging me to go.

I can’t wait. I need to get out of here.

Like yesterday.

The moment the assembly is over, I’m out of my chair and ready to get on with the day. See how my classes are. I wait impatiently as everyone files out of our row of seats and I can feel Arch looming behind me. He’s tall and broad and I swear when he shifts closer to me, I can smell him. His cologne, which thankfully isn’t too overpowering.

No, of course he smells…nice. His scent is subtle yet spicy. He flat out smells expensive.

Just as I’m about to turn into the aisle and make my way out of the building, I feel someone jerk on the end of my braid, hard enough to make me yelp. Whirling around, I see Arch standing there, his hands in his pockets, his expression one of pure innocence.

“Don’t touch me,” I say, hating how rattled I feel. How rattled I sound.

Ugh this boy.

“Was it true, what you said?” When I frown at him, he continues, “That your mom died on your birthday?”

I stare at him, tempted for the briefest second to tell him the truth.

Yes, she did. She died on my twelfth birthday and it was awful and traumatic and if I could forget the day ever happened, if I could have my mother back for at least one more birthday, I would sacrifice whatever I could to see her smile again. To hear her voice. To feel her arms wrap me up in a hug. Just once.

That’s all I want.

Instead, I say nothing. Not like he cares. Not really.

Sighing, I turn my back to him, exiting the auditorium as fast as I can.

It’s better that I forget all about him, I tell myself as I walk across campus and head toward the building where my first class is. Keeping up a conversation with Arch Lancaster will bring me nothing but trouble. He doesn’t like me. He looks at me only as academic competition and I feel the same way.

The same exact way.