Chapter Text
Prologue: Haven't Been Caught.
She's a good girl, she's daddy's favorite. He's saved for Harvard, he knows she'll make it.
In November I got her to open up about it, to actually tell me about how she chose Miami University; a place that sounded amazing, but was only smacked into Oxford, Ohio. She also told me about her dad that day, too. I knew she was a daddy's girl, but never like this. Her dad was a widower, her mom died when she gave birth, and pops did everything to make sure she had all she wanted, he raised her in a nice little town on the outskirts of Providence, Rhode Island. He became a preacher, already having the schooling before he and his wife had even married, that made Her the daughter of a preacher man. From day one, he saved and saved -- even when he got remarried and had twins, making sure she'd have everything her little heart desired, more importantly he saved for her to go to Harvard; she was 'daddy's little genius' -- or that's what she told me while she was all giggly off wine.
She's good at school, she's never truant, she can speak French, and I think she's fluent.
October was when I realized she never missed school. She was in her seat, that one seat she had in every class, it seemed, and she was sniffling -- had a whole fucking arsenal of medicine and tissues sticking out of her bag. I think the professor was even worried because he addressed her and said that he was sure she could catch up with no problem if she went to her dorm for the day to get rest and feel better. To which she replied, "Thanks, but I'd rather suffer through class while sneezing rather than suffer in my dorm and be sick by my lonesome," and that was all there was to it... or there was until someone a few rows back had muttered, "Princess can't miss school, daddy would kill her." Then she turned around to him and glared, "Foutre cochon," It translated to 'cum pig' and I asked her about it, she said it was 'fuck off, you pig' and it just came out different since not everything translates from French to English. Either way, it made me realize that she wasn't just a piece of ass, even though I realized that a bit before.
'Cause every night she studies hard in her room -- at least that's what her parents assume, but she sneaks out the window to meet with her boyfriend.
She had a boyfriend, she didn't when I first met her, but a few weeks later she did. He was the boy that knew just how to touch her, make her feel like a princess and a badass all at the same time. I hated him, so much. One time she got a call from her dad; her boyfriend, myself, and several other kids were all in my room at the Beta Theta Pi house and she quickly shushed us. We all giggled in the corner while she talked to him, "No, dad. I promise. I'm in my room, studying. Right now? Ug-- dad! I can't get any studying done if you're talkin' my ear off. Y-Yeah... I'll text you before I sleep. Promise. Mhm. Tell Linda I said hey, and kiss the babies for me. Mhm. Love you too -- yeah. Oh god dad. I'm not going to have sex! Shut up. I love you, bye." Then she just turned to us and laughed, saying if she were at home she would have sneaked out her window just to come and see us all.
She's a good girl, a straight A-student, she's really into all that self-improvement.
One day I finally got her to come by on her own, I could see how she was looking at me; I knew it, she knew it. Her eyes kept watching over my lips, down my arms, over my jeans. She wouldn't do it, though. Some part of her wouldn't do it, and I couldn't understand, but I didn't push or complain. We talked and talked; she went on about the one time she got a 'b' in middle school. She locked herself in her room and didn't hang out with friends until she brought that grade up, which took her two weeks because it was a bit more difficult to do when she was thinking that a 'b' meant she failed the seventh grade. Then she told me about how she's always trying ways to better herself, and that one lower grade taught her humility and how she wouldn't make fun of a person for not getting good grades, it even made her start tutoring other people. After that her habits picked up and now she's always trying make herself a better person even if it's by the way she looks at someone -- but I know that's only during the day and around other people she knew.
I swear she lives in that library, but if you ask her she'll say, "that's where you'll find me!"
Near the end of August I tried hanging out with her, kept dropping by her dorm, texting her. Fuck, she's hard to get a hold of. Her roomie told me, "Sorry, she's at the library. You can wait here if you want." Course I never did; I always went to look for her. Everytime I asked her about it I'd get the same answer, a chirpy, "That's where you'll find me!" I thought she was crazy.
But if you look then you won't find her there. She may be clever, but she just acts too square.
The thing about the library, though, is that you have the computer area, fiction, non-fiction, reference, and whatever else; but you think you see it all at first glance and you can tell when someone isn't in there. No matter how many times she swore she was in the library, I could never find her. She's cunning and it's amazing, but you'd never guess because she's just a girl from a small town with a preacher for a dad.
'Cause in the back of the room, where nobody looks: she'll be with her boyfriend (she's not reading books).
The second time I caught her being bad was the first time I explored the library. Once again I was sent on that goose chase to find her, but I was fed up, so I looked, actually fucking looked. When I got to the last aisle of books I heard a small moan and my stomach dropped. She and him were studying, it definitely wasn't physics, because I've seen that text book... it looked nothing like that.
She's a good girl, hasn't been caught.