What?! (d)

I had expected Jackie to talk about my naughty behavior at school. Her jaw clenched a little as if she was holding back from scolding me in front of Dad. As I ate my food tastelessly at the dinner table, I twirled my spoon, licking it and reflecting on the aluminum finish.

"Mr. Dawson told me about your naughty behavior." Jackie cleared his throat. "You're doing wrong Algebra on the board. You hit the principal until his phone fell into the pool . . ." Jackie took a deep breath. The woman reached for the wine glass in front of her. "I don't know what punishment to give you. I have no authority because I'm not your mother. You wouldn't like it when someone other than your mother ruled your life, right?" One eyebrow pulled up.

Yes, congratulations, Jackie. You're good at reading my mind.

"Daph," now it was Dad's turn to open his mouth to rebuke me. "I know you haven't adapted to this place yet. I'm sure you can mingle and be sweet like Christabel."

"Again! Why do you always compare me to that girl at the dinner table?" My tone went up two octaves. "I don't even know her!"

"You must know her because she is now your sister." Jackie stared at me intently. "Listen, Daphne. My way of upbringing was different from your mother's. I've always followed manners and rules. Also, I'll punish anyone who does anything wrong. But I think you're old enough to mind your own troubles." Jackie pinched her temples. "At least you can behave yourself, Daphne. You can't act like that anymore now that you're my daughter. A princess of Luisa."

I let out a short sigh. Dad's gaze locked on me. Judgmental gaze. I pursed my lips sideways.

"We can talk alone."

"No. Tonight, I have an appointment with my friends." I grabbed a glass of water near me and drank it down. "Another time." Then, strolling nonchalantly leaving my food still full on the plate. I've said many times that I don't like being compared to anyone.

Like Christabel, for example. I don't know her, but I'm sure we're different. I'm stubborn, unruly, delinquent, and impudent, but I like myself like this because I'm comfortable with that kind of situation. Just imagine that you are who you are suddenly transformed into someone who is a hundred and eighty degrees different. If possible, I will do anything to get out of this mansion. Not running away, they will still look for me if I run away. For example, making the problem even more, more brutal.

If you want to be more brutal, kill the people on the street! The evil part of me scoffed.

What the hell? That is not what I mean. I was about to dye my hair and pierce my face like a delinquent. That way, Jackie will immediately kick me out of this mansion. Haha. Well, it's not easy, but you can try, right?