The first day of school, one of the most dreaded days in a child’s life. On this day, the rising sun is their greatest enemy and to simply get out of bed is a task of utmost difficulty. For Emma Walters, however, this day was one to be celebrated, for it was her first day of the eighth grade. That summer, she’d finally turned thirteen, which (as her grandmother awkwardly reminded her) meant she was practically a woman now.
On that morning, she awoke two hours early just to ensure that she had enough time to get ready and perfect her look. After all, on the first day, first impressions were everything. Having the right look could put a girl on the path to popularity, while the wrong look could knock her all the way to the bottom rung of the social ladder. Emma didn’t want to be on that bottom rung, not this year.
“Today’s the day,” she said as she modeled her outfit in front of her bedroom mirror. “Biologically, you’re a woman now. Physically, …” A frown tugged at her lips as she examined her scrawny, curveless figure. “... you still look like a child.”
Letting out a heavy sigh, she smoothed out her jean skirt for the fourth time and then re-checked her hair and makeup. Once she was completely satisfied, she went downstairs to the kitchen, where her parents and five-year-old sister were eating breakfast.
As soon as she entered the room, her father peeked over his newspaper and said in a deep, rumbling voice, “Don’t even think about it.”
“Think about what?” Emma innocently asked.
“Dear, would you look at what your daughter is wearing?”
“Hmm?” Mrs. Walters was busy dabbing her chin clean with her napkin. When she finally glanced at her daughter, the napkin slipped from her hand and landed on her plate. “Oh, Emma,” she gently said, “that’s too much.”
“No, it’s not. Really, it’s not that bad.”
“When we bought you that makeup,” her father said, “I didn’t expect you to wear it all at once.” Both her parents shared a chuckle while Emma scowled. “Now, go clean that muck off your face and change into something more appropriate.”
“But this is appropriate!”
“That skirt is way too short. You look like a streetwalker.”
“It’s not even that short,” Emma argued, and then she saw her father’s eyes narrow into that fatherly glare which always spelled trouble. That look meant he’d accepted her challenge and was about to prove her wrong.
“Fingertips,” he demanded as he folded up his newspaper and laid it on the table.
“Oh, not the fingertip test again! It’s not fair!”
“Let’s see just how short that skirt is. Go on, hands at your sides.”
Groaning, Emma reluctantly placed her hands at her sides and anxiously awaited her father’s inspection.
Pushing up his black, thick-framed glasses, Mr. Walters leaned in close and examined his daughter’s hemline. Unfortunately for Emma, her fingertips went well past her hemline.
Mr. Walters smiled victoriously and leaned back in his chair. “Go change.”
“Ugh, that’s not fair, Dad! I have long fingers!”
He shrugged. “Then buy longer skirts.”
“Too short! Too short!” Her little sister, Lydia, giggled and pointed at Emma’s overhanging fingers. “Too short! Too short!”
“Shut up, Liddy,” Emma snapped, and then she turned to her father and whined, “But, Dad, I’ve seen girls wearing much shorter ones.”
“I don’t care about other girls. They’re some other father’s headache. You are mine. Now, upstairs.”
YOU ARE READING
Sooner or Later (Feat. 1D and 5SOS)
Fanfiction[CURRENTLY ON HOLD] Emma Walters is a thirteen-year-old girl who, like most kids her age, can't wait to grow up. Harry Styles is one of the most popular boys in high school. He's charming, gorgeous, and seventeen. The two meet at a high school house...
