Repairing the Hurt

Chapter 27

I didn't know I needed a uniform.

When I pulled into the parking lot in North's truck, dread settled into my stomach as I saw all the girls in plaid skirts.

Damn it, Corey.

I wanted to lie low, under the radar until I established a role with the teacher.

I guess that's out the window now.

Rebel without a cause, it is.

I open the truck's door and climb down, grabbing my bookbag from the passenger seat on my way out.

My grey skirt and pink shirt made me a beacon. Everyone looked at me as I walked by them and into the school. Eyes followed my every movement.

Why did there have to be uniforms? It was summer school. I thought this was supposed to be the hipster, stoner crowd?

I made my way across the parking lot, noting the expensive cars. Summer school did not live up to its reputation.

The parking lot led directly to the front of the building, where I passed through giant glass doors.

The doors alone let in so much light, I don't think the lights over the counter were necessary. The tile was this discolored cream or grey, the true identity lost years ago. The walls were overwhelmed with pictures of who I'm assuming is Jesus.

This place seems like a private school. But the building itself is huge, larger than even Ashley Waters.

More girls were floating through the hallway beyond the desk, watching me as I passed by.

That's when I realize that I haven't seen a single guy.

An all girls school? Damn it, Corey. This is not like Ashley Waters.

I roll my shoulders back and approach the main counter with the intent to check in.

The lady at the front desk was the stereotypical librarian. The cat-eyed frames, the awful floral dress, the disapproving look as she saw me.

"What are you wearing?" She hisses at me.

I want to flinch by the tone of her voice.

I thought I looked nice.

"Come over here, stupid girl," she stands up and rounds the desk, heading further into the office area off to the side.

Stupid girl? The momentary shock of being spoken to that way, like I was inferior scraped against me. It's been so long since I've been spoken to that way, it was familiar and yet foreign.

I follow the lady into the rest of the offices, observing the people in there as I pass.

Nuns stare back at me.

Did Corey send me to the wrong school?

Before I can ponder it further, the lady guiding me turns around a sharp corner and stops at a small closet door.

She opens the door bruskly and reaches in, producing a plaid skirt and a white button up shirt with a rounded collar.

She throws them at me and waits expectantly.

My expression is clearly dubious.

She wants me to change here? In front of all the watchful eyes?

"Where's the bathroom?" I ask quietly instead.

The lady frowns at me, "You're not allowed near the rest of the students until you are in dress code."

So, no bathroom?