Peyton Church is a city girl by anyone's standards. Born and raised in New York City, she grew up wanting for nothing. She attended the most prestigious preparatory schools, shopped on Fifth Avenue, dined with the rich and famous and was adored by...
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BY THE TIME the first week of May rolls around, I've finally started to think of Rock Valley as home.
It seems weird. New York has always been my home; I was born there, I grew up there, I thrived there. But now, I can Barry remember what the appeal of the bustling sidewalks, constant noise and never ending construction was.
I love walking to school in the fresh air. Arkansas in May is far warmer than New York, and you won't hear me complaining. I'm even enjoying school. It might not be an ivy-league prep school, but the classes are enriching and the teachers aren't half the snot-nosed pricks they were at Spence.
I may have rose through the ranks of RVH's popularity quickly, but I don't feel the same pressure to be the Queen I was before. Being the HBIC here is more like being everyone's pretty, older sister. The one you go to for beauty tips and relationship advice. It's actually astounding how many couples I've matched up and played marriage counsellor for over the past month.
My friends feel like my sisters, and sometimes I find myself realizing that they might just be the only true friends I've had in all of my life.
And then there's Hunter.
Hunter Maddox. Originally, the bane of my existence here, has now been my actual boyfriend for a month. Now that has got to be some kind of sorcery. We're still in the honeymoon phase, which is obvious by the fact we're practically joined at the hip during all hours of the day. And hands, and mouths...You get the picture.
The only thing wrong now is my brother. For some reason, we've grown distant. He barely acknowledges me at school, and doesn't talk to me at home unless absolutely necessary. It's awkward to say the least, seeing as we share a bedroom wall and have dinner together on a nightly basis. I just don't get it.
It's exceptionally awkward when I turn to the door at Pauli's swinging open, only to watch Jay and his friends walk through the door and take a seat at one of the tables in my section. I eye my fellow waitress, Margie, whose settling up a bill for one of her customers. She's overdue for a break. I can't ask possibly ask her to cover my tables for me.
So I take a breath to collect myself, paste on my best friendly smile, and walk over to my baby brother's table.
The second he sees me, he scowls and buries his face in his menu. I miss a step. He's mad, and I'm not sure what to do. He's never been mad at me for this long before.
Recovering, I approach the table. My friendly smile is a weak one. "Hey guys, what can I get for you this afternoon?"
I know each of the three boys names, I think, but not because my brother has introduced us. It's just that small of a town. The blonde one smiles at me. He's one of those kids who thinks he's charming. "How about a beer, sweetheart?"
My smile matches his, sweet as sugar, and I lean my hip against the bench seat beside him. "Sure thing, hun. You want that in a bottle or a sippy cup?"
