9 | The Saga of Stick Girl and Cry Baby

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Six o'clock on Tuesday morning came a little too soon for my taste

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Six o'clock on Tuesday morning came a little too soon for my taste.

After two and a half months of freedom, it was finally time to return to the hell better known as school. In exactly two hours I would be sitting amongst all the other trust fund babies that filled Georgetown Trinity to the brim, and I certainly wasn't looking forward to it.

With a groan, I slapped at my bedside table to silence my alarm and stumbled out of bed to face the day. It took a good half-hour long shower for me to wake up enough to realize that I needed to get my ass in gear if I didn't want to be late for homeroom, so after quickly toweling off I scurried out of the bathroom to search for something to throw on. It was then that I spotted what looked to be a uniform on my bed, a souvenir someone must have deposited there while I was in the shower.

After six and a half years away from Trinity, I had completely forgotten there had been a uniform involved. Back in LA I had been free to wear my normal attire of shorts and t-shirts to school, but it looked as if those days were over. All together the ensemble didn't look too bad: a simple collared shirt, plaid skirt, striped tie, and navy blazer. While it wasn't the best, it was definitely a step up from the awful jumpers we'd been forced to wear all through elementary school.

At least, that's what I thought until I actually put it on.

I didn't even have to look in the mirror to know I looked like the clichéd, dirty Catholic school girl. While the shirt wasn't as bad as it could have been, the skirt was absolutely horrific. If the little detail that it was a skirt wasn't bad enough, the fact that it barely fell to mid-thigh made me wonder if someone was playing some sort of sick joke on me. The thing was mere centimeters away from being indecent and there was no way I would ever be able to bend down in it. Squatting was definitely out of the question, as was kneeling, causing me to question what I was supposed to do if I dropped something. Even walking too fast seemed like a bad idea, seeing as the fabric had the tendency to fly up even with the slightest breeze.

Grumbling to myself, I grabbed my bookbag, the blue and silver striped tie, a pair of black slip-ons, and stalked out of my room to join everyone else in the kitchen. In the chaos that was breakfast time in the Avilla household, I didn't expect anyone to notice my entrance, which was the norm. This morning, however, all eyes turned to me.

Though the TV was blaring in the background, it seemed like everyone had been stunned to silence. Katherine's jaw had practically hit the ground, the twins were giggling behind their hands, and my father looked a little uncomfortable.

"Is it really that bad?" I questioned, even though I already knew the answer. "I could maybe throw on a pair of leggings."

"Leggings?" Marissa scoffed while her twin shot me a disgusted look. "Um, ew. Besides, it's like, ninety degrees outside. You'd burn up in those."

"Yeah, but you can practically see my cooch," I pointed out, tugging on the hemline. "I'm totally going to end up flashing everyone."

My father groaned and ran hand over his face. "That's not something I want to hear from my daughter."

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