Daddy's Little Doll.

I hadn’t been in school for a week or so. Nor was I going back. I was just going to stay home and be a good mother. Although, it was hard to be a good mother when your head kept spinning. I woke up at noon to the sound of Maybell crying.

She was already three months. Her brown curly hair was growing longer and her hazel eyes just caught my attention every time. She looked nothing like me. I had blonde hair and blue eyes. Usually when you thought of a girl named Peyton, you would see someone with long black hair and bright blye eyes. Except my eyes were really dark and my hair was a short pixie cut.

As I brought Maybell to my breast to feed her there was a rap upon my door. I looked down the stairs before going down. I went to the door opening it. My eyes widened when I saw who it was. I slammed the door in their face.

It was my teacher Marc Rider.

He had just seen me feeing Maybell. My heart was beating so damn fast I thought it was about to pop out. My brain could hardly process everything.

“I’m so sorry, Peyton can you please open up.” He said. I walked away from the door holding onto Maybell tighter.

“Wrong house.” I said then ran up the stairs and put Maybell in her crib. She was looking around curiously. I kissed the top of her head lightly whispering to her I would be right back. I slowly went back down the stairs sitting on my step looking at the door.

“Peyton.” He said. I sighed and got up making sure nothing was wrong with my shirt like it was still up or something. I opened the door and peeked out from a small slit.

“Yes, sir.” I said.

“I need to talk to you.” He said as I opened the door a little bit more. I stood in the doorway.

“Yes?”

“We need to talk about your attendance.” He had his arms crossed tapping his foot.

“We can talk about that over the phone.” I replied back.

“I tried but you hang up.” I tried not to smile. I did hand up on him, a lot.

“If you don’t came to school, you will have to go to court.” He said. I glared a little. I hated things that dealt with people. That’s why I loved to stay at home. Even if my father was in, I was still sort of alone.

“May I talk to your father?” He asked.

“He’s not in.”

“When will he be in?”

“When you’re not here.” I said slamming the door.