alwaysliked to have her entire day mapped out for her from start to finish. It made her feel safe and secure. Naturally, when something prevented that, she tended to freak out a little bit.

"Who's picking me up?" Daisy questioned for the hundredth time as they pulled into the parking lot of Daisy's school.

"I don't know, Daisy." Mark sighed, trying his best not to be annoyed. But the kid had asked the question every five seconds, and it was always the same answer.

"Why don't you know? Is it gonna be you, or...or Naomi? Just give me a clue." Daisy wanted to know what the rest of her day was going to look like. It was such a minute detail, but Daisy wanted to know so bad.

"I don't know." Mark spoke firmly. Daisy had been living with him long enough to know that being on call means his work situation is unpredictable. He might stay home all day and not get called in at all, he might get paged five minutes into getting home. It was in the air.

"I promise someone will be here to pick you up, okay? Don't worry about it."

The way that Mark said "don't worry about it" made it sound easy, as if Daisy was ever able to actually control her nerves.

He seriously couldn't give her any clue? He didn't know at all?

Daisy sighed as the car came to a stop outside of her school. She looked over at Mark who was giving her an expectant look, as if wanting her to go and challenging her to ask one more time who was picking her up.

Gathering her book bag and opening the car door, Daisy mumbled a goodbye, making sure to shut the door hard enough to make quite the statement.

Why couldn't Mark plan anything out? Daisy understood that being on call was out of his hands, but...couldn't they form a plan? Couldn't they designate someone to definitively pick her up rather than leaving it up in the air?

Daisy trudged past the sea of students filtering into the school building. Her day would be a bad one, she knew that much. Unplanned days always went horribly. It was much nicer to know what would be going on at school, what would be going on after school, what dinner would entail, etc. She didn't like not knowing what came next.

But of course Mark wasn't a planner. Calypso wasn't either, and it drove her crazy. She was living with a bunch of careless, non-obsessive freaks. Boring.

The classmates that Daisy walked with were all mere acquaintances. She didn't have any friends, nor anyone she could rant to about her frustrations.

She wished she had somebody the way that Calypso had her little friend Ava. Someone she could walk out of the car and run across the courtyard to.

But alas, Daisy had no one except...Daisy.

Why though? Daisy thought she was friendly enough. She didn't look intimidating...or at least she didn't think so. If Daisy could be friends with herself, she would.

Mental turmoil followed Daisy all the way up the stairs to her first period class. Her snarky teacher was stood in the doorway greeting students with that stupid disapproving stare. Daisy wouldn't ever dream of it, but if she were brave enough, she'd like to think she'd tell the teacher off.

Mrs. Mathews was most definitely the worst teacher Daisy had ever had. And she taught Algebra too, which automatically put her a level lower in Daisy's eyes. Algebra was a big no-no for Daisy.

Daisy slipped past the woman and into the classroom, the woman not even acknowledging her. That's how it always was though.

Mrs. Mathews didn't acknowledge academics as much as she did just student popularity. She had favorites, and her favorites were the cool kids that talked to her. Which...automatically put Daisy in the bottom tier considering the only time she's spoken to the woman has been to ask to go to the bathroom.

Daisy took her seat at her lone wooden desk, organizing things just the way she liked. Her notebook placed in the top left corner, a perfectly sharpened pencil and black ink pen sitting right on top.

Her graphing calculator that she used for the class was positioned perfectly in the top right corner. It's cover was a royal blue, matching her notebook for the class perfectly.

Math was blue. Daisy couldn't describe the color-coding, but she liked matching everything according to what color she thought it was. It was kind of like the way that red plates were for dinner, or the way that blue clothing was for Tuesdays. Blue was for Math, and yellow was for English. Science was green, History was purple, and her Art portfolio was red.

With all of her notebooks grouped together, the inside of Daisy's book bag always had enough colors to make a rainbow jealous.

The first period bell rang, signaling it was time for class to start. Daisy heard her teacher shut the door as she got ready to begin class, and everything was fine for a moment. Until Daisy looked up at the whiteboard.

Test today!

A test? Daisy hadn't known about a test. She always knows about tests, she always plans for them. She hadn't planned for a test, what test?

Her eyes snapped over to Mrs. Mathews, and she waited anxiously for the woman to say something. To say that it had been a mistake, or that it was a surprise test and they had a few minutes to look over their notes.

But the woman had a stack of packets in her hand that she was beginning to hand out, and Daisy started to panic.

So this was some sort of surprise pop quiz, right? It had to be.

But when she snapped her eyes over to Asher's desk, it was empty.

Asher was a boy in her class that had dyscalculia, which was kind of like dyslexia, but with numbers instead of words. Whenever they took a test, Asher had to go to a private testing room with a teaching aide.

If this was a surprise pop quiz, he would still be sitting there, and then the teacher would have moved him out. This had to have been a planned quiz, he must have known about it and just started out in the private testing room.

But...how? Daisy always remembered dates. She remembered pop quizzes and picture days and homework due dates. She always paid attention in class, she always planned accordingly. How had she missed this?

Mrs. Mathews got to Daisy's desk, placing the packet of test questions right on top of her notebook before proceeding to the next student.

Daisy thumbed through the white pages. There were forty-five questions. Forty-five different questions that Daisy hadn't prepared for. Forty-five different questions that Daisy hadn't studied for. She wanted nothing more than to excuse herself from the classroom and cry in the hallway.

"You may begin." Mrs. Mathews spoke from the front of the classroom, typing something on her laptop. She looked relaxed, and it made Daisy angry. This woman was the constant source of her anxiety.

Daisy took a look at problem number one, all the way at the top of page one. Rather than focusing on the math problem revolving around finding an x interval, Daisy focused on a math problem that she had created herself.

There were forty-five questions. Forty-five divided by three was fifteen. If Daisy tapped to fifteen a total of forty-five times, she would be safe. She would be able to focus on her math quiz, and Calypso wouldn't die.

Her fingers tapped rapidly against the wooden desk she was working on. She tapped in groups of fifteen with three-second intervals between each group of tapping.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

One.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

Two.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

Three.

Daisy mouthed the numbers quietly as she counted, her finger pads beating rapidly against the desk as her mind was anywhere but on her math quiz.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

Four.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

Five. Forty left.

One, two, three, four, five-

"Miss Livingston." A voice made Daisy jump. Mrs. Mathews had appeared right in front of her desk with a very crumpled frown. "Stop with the tapping, please. You're disrupting the class."

Daisy looked over to see a few of her classmates staring at her. Normally, she would've been mortified. But her mind was clouded, counting the only thing on her brain.

Her eyes flicked down to her hand. Despite her brain having paused her counting, her fingers didn't stop tapping, and that made her panic. Her taps weren't even with her counting.

"You made me lose count."

Mrs. Mathews raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

Daisy ignored the woman, shutting her eyes tightly as she attempted to align her counting with her tapping. She was off track now. She didn't know what number she was on, what group she was on. All she knew was that she had to get to forty-five before she did anything else.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

One.

One, two, three, four-

"Daisy."

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-

"Daisy."

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven-

"Daisy Livingston!"

"I'm counting!" Daisy snapped, attracting even more attention from her peers. Mrs. Mathews was baffled, raising an eyebrow, but Daisy didn't quit her grouping. Her tapping went on faster as her anxiety sped up. This woman didn't care if anything bad happened to her or Calypso, and that pissed her off.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

One.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

Two.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven-

"You can head to Mr. Brown's office then. I'm sure your father would love to get a call about your disruptions."

Father.

Mrs. Mathews knew her fostering situation, and the use of the word father made Daisy want to slap the woman right there.

"Shut up!" Daisy snapped so loudly that every head in the classroom turned to her, her eyes burning with rage as she looked up at her teacher.

And that is how Daisy landed herself in the principal's office at only 9:00 in the morning.

Daisy was sat alone in Mr. Brown's office. He had already had an incredibly stern talking with her before the receptionist called him out to take care of other matters.

He had called Mark while she was sitting there, telling her that "you should be so disappointed that I have to call your father", which peeved Daisy off even more. When would people learn that legal guardian was not equivalent to parent?

She was embarrassed, truthfully. She hadn't meant to snap, she just...she wanted to finish counting. Mrs. Mathews was being...she was being...the worst.

Even more embarrassing was the fact that Mark had dropped Daisy off maybe fifteen minutes prior to her snapping. He had just dropped her off, and somehow in such little time, she had managed to screw so much up.

The clock strung on the wall of the principal's office read 9:10, meaning that Daisy had already been in here for thirty minutes. The principal had called Mark thirty minutes ago, and he still hadn't showed up.

Maybe he was trying to torture her. Or...maybe he was trying to teach her a lesson. Daisy hates being left alone to think about things, maybe this is her punishment.

Mr. Brown appeared in the doorway, Daisy's gaze snapping up when the man cleared his throat. "You're dismissed."

Daisy made sure to move as slowly as possible. She wanted to stall having to see Mark at all.

Mr. Brown looked very annoyed to see that Daisy was moving as quickly as a tortoise, though, and that prompted Daisy to speed her actions up a tiny bit.

She mentally prepared herself for the disappointed look on Mark's face, the horrible glare she would receive.

However, she was very relieved to discover Naomi standing there instead of Mark.

Er...maybe it wasn't a relief. The brunette nanny looked fairly pissed, and Daisy felt her cheeks heat up slightly.

Naomi wasted no time in escorting Daisy out the front office, and Daisy was slightly terrified. Naomi was always so bubbly, she had never seen her nanny so hostile.

The two girls walked in silence, Daisy trailing behind Naomi as they walked to the woman's car.

Once Daisy had loaded her book bag into the car and gotten in, things didn't get any less awkward. Things were more awkward, actually, considering they were in such close quarters with their seats beside each other.

Naomi drove out of the school parking lot, her gaze set ahead as she drove, and Daisy figured maybe she would try to break the ice.

"Where's Mark?" Daisy spoke, not really sure if she wanted the answer.

"He got called in." Naomi mumbled.

"Oh." Daisy nodded slowly. "I...I thought you had classes on Friday?"

"I do. This is my lunch break." Naomi spoke, referring to her hectic college schedule.

"Oh, I'm...I'm sorry that you're missing your lunch break. I didn't mean to make you angry about that, I-"

"You think that's what I'm mad about?" Naomi asked, Daisy immediately frowning.

"So...you are angry with me."

"I'm not angry, I just..." Naomi sighed, taking a moment to let herself decompress. Her tone sounded much less hostile to Daisy and more...disappointed. "This is so unlike you. Mark called and said you...you had a tantrum in the middle of class? You yelled at your teacher in front of everybody?"

A tantrum. Leave it to Mark to belittle Daisy for episodes that she can't control.

"I didn't mean to." Daisy spoke quietly, Naomi sparing her a glance. The girl looked sad, and despite her annoyance towards Daisy, Naomi sympathized with her.

"I know, but...you've got to try working on it. You can't be doing that stuff, Daisy."

She usually didn't. Daisy wasn't normally rude to anyone, especially not adults. The Walters had also petrified the girl into never speaking back to anyone.

But...Mrs. Mathews had interrupted her counting. Her counting. The thing that kept her from the brink of insanity, the thing that kept Daisy and Calypso safe. Mrs. Mathews was going to put Calypso in harms way if Daisy couldn't finish counting, and Daisy couldn't have that. She needed to do everything in her power to protect her sister.

Bad things happen when Daisy doesn't get to finish her counting, Exhibit A being the events that transpired within the past hour.

Daisy had expected to be taken back to the apartment, so she was very confused when Naomi's car rolled to a stop outside of the hospital.

"...Why-"

"You have some things to take care of here." Naomi spoke gently, giving her a sad smile. "Go take care of them. Call if you need me."

Daisy frowned, pulling her book bag out with her as she exited the vehicle. Daisy approached the hospital, turning as she watched Naomi drive off.

She figured she knew what this was. The mental episode she had today would probably make Mark push even harder for psychiatry, which Daisy really did not want. She would much rather keep to herself than expel her problems onto a total stranger.

And she didn't need a professional to sit there and tell her she was crazy. She knew that already, enough people had been telling her. She was better off just being by herself, and she wished Mark understood that.

Daisy didn't exactly know where to go. Mark didn't have an office or anything, which Daisy found funny. For someone who acts like he's God himself, Daisy figured you should at least have your own office.

Daisy wandered right past reception, who didn't even bat an eye at the girl. They spent far too much time talking to each other rather than doing their jobs.

She wasn't really sure where to go. She figured if she wandered, she'd run into somebody she knew.

No such luck, though.

It wasn't until she reached the third floor that she spotted Mark himself talking to a patient through the room's window. She knew she wasn't allowed to go into patient rooms, so she decided on waiting outside by the nurses station.

Daisy liked the nurses who worked at the hospital. They were nice, and they spoke gently. They had a certain nurturing nature about them.

While they loved Daisy, they for some reason hated Mark, and Daisy couldn't figure out why. Maybe his arrogance.

She sat stiffly in her chair, watching Mark through the window. He seemed relatively happy, a stark contrast to what he would feel when he saw Daisy.

Daisy sighed, letting her brain go back to numbers. Fifteen, more precisely. Rather than tapping though, she played a game of "I Spy" with herself.

She counted fifteen pale green scrub tops, which were pretty easy to count considering that's what the nurses wore. Fifteen white coats was a little harder to find as doctors filtered in and out throughout the hallway and patient rooms. She had started to count pens, but had only reached ten by the time Mark had walked over to the nurses station.

Mark opened a white binder, flipping through the pages. He didn't even bother to look up as he spoke. "Mr. Jones wasn't happy with his patient care this morning."

Daisy was very confused, and she wondered why Mark was talking to her about a patient. Didn't that break his hippo thingy?

But the nurse sitting at the desk frowned distastefully as she narrowed her eyes, and it was very evident that the words were meant for her as opposed to Daisy.

Mark looked up at the loud silence, frowning as he watched the nurse glare at him. "What? I'm just relaying a message. He said you were too slow. Speed things up a little, okay? It's not that hard to ensure quality care."

"If it's not that hard, maybe you can do it. Maybe you can change his bedpan." The nurse snapped. It was very evident Mark had just caught her on a bad day, or maybe it was just her blatant hatred for the man coming through.

The nurse's comment shut Mark up very quickly. He didn't mind holding a scalpel and slicing a patient's face off, but the very idea of having to change a bedpan terrified him.

Mark snapped the binder shut as he finished filling out a chart, looking over at Daisy. He looked slightly shocked, as if he hadn't seen her before and thought she had magically appeared out of thin air.

Daisy felt slightly nervous again, half-expecting him to start yelling right there at the nurses station for everyone to gawk at.

But Mark only gestured his head to the side as he turned and walked away, a clear indication that he wanted Daisy to follow.

Daisy quickly gathered her things, rushing to catch up with Mark. The man hadn't even stopped to see if she was walking with him, he had simply walked away.

The two walked down the hallway, no conversation commencing at all. It wasn't awful, because there were other people also walking throughout the halls. Their side-chatter filled in the voids of emptiness.