could call her all of the names they wanted — she wasn’t budging. She was neither afraid, nor intimidated. She was on a mission, and no one would stop her.
She’d been back home with her grandfather for a month, and her mood hadn’t improved one little bit in all of that time. She’d snuck out like a thief in the night from Hudson’s hotel room and thought she’d have forgotten all about him by now.
She’d been wrong.
It had taken all of the willpower she’d possessed to keep herself from doing an internet search for him. But what were her chances of finding him anyway? Slim to none. There had to be many Hudson Andersons in the world. And she didn’t really want to find him anyway, she assured herself.
It had been a fantastic night, the best of her life, but she’d known from the second she said yes to him that it would only be one night. There was no way it could be more. Now if she could convince her body she’d made the right decision, she’d be a very happy woman indeed.
Instead, she was in a terrible mood. But she was doing what she loved — fighting for a worthy cause. She’d convinced herself she wasn’t going to do it anymore, but this building hit home — her home, and this was about so much more than just a cause.
Daisy couldn’t stop fighting. In the past months she’d decided she had to be smarter in her approach. She was tired of constantly being told no. She might be small, but she was strong and fierce. She cursed her blonde hair and blue eyes, and had even tried dying her golden locks black to make her appear more serious. She hated being called a Barbie, or thought of as less intelligent because of genetics.
But she didn’t like taking time to dye her hair every six weeks, so she’d given up and allowed her natural color . . . with some chemical help . . . to come back. She kept her hair in a tight bun and wore oversized eyeglasses she didn’t need when she remembered. That helped a little. She also never wore dresses in public. She wanted to be taken seriously so she dressed for success.
“I’m not real comfortable with this,” Darla, her best friend since kindergarten, said.
“Don’t worry, Darla. They won’t smash in the building as long as we’re standing here. They might be willing to murder the building and all of the happy memories it contains, but they won’t go so far as to kill people,” Daisy said with confidence.
“Listen, you bimbos, we’re paid by the job, not the hour, so can you please get your cute little asses out of the way so we can finish?” a man shouted.
“If you want to come stand over here, we don’t mind the view,” another called out, creating laughter from many of the crew.
“Come on, guys, there’s no need to be crude,” another said, shocking Daisy. At least there was one decent man among the group.
“Billy, if they want to put themselves on display, they can reap what they’ve sewn,” the first man shouted back.
The young man who’d tried to defend them shrugged and sat back in the huge tractor he was operating. Daisy looked at him, her hope abandoned that he’d continue to fight for them when he looked down. Weren’t there any real men left in the world who fought for valor, honor, and what was right?
The building Daisy and Darla were currently chained to was a hundred-year-old schoolhouse. They’d both attended it from kindergarten through fifth grade. It was small, and hadn’t been used since they’d built a brand new school a couple of miles down the road five years ago, but there was no need to take this one down.
There were a lot of memories in the school and even more history that would be demolished if this crew got their way. They wanted to rip it down and put up an eyesore of an apartment complex. The neighborhood had already grown around the school, trying to squeeze it out, but the five-acre plot of land could be turned into a museum and park. With some love and time, this building could stand for many more years to come.
“I love this school too,” Darla said. Then she sighed, looking at Daisy as if she was already defeated. “But you know that each time you do this, in the end we lose. The building