Chapter 27: A Debate and a Date

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I spent the rest of the day freaked out by what was under my shirt. No amount of scrubbing and soap made a dent in it. The last letter smudged a little and my skin started getting redder but apart from that it was as good as a tattoo. A bold fucking tattoo. One that just about peaked through my slightly translucent white school shirt in such a way that it was not readable but visible that I had a mark on me under need.

I was petrified.

What made it all worse was out of sheer fear someone would stare a little too long, tap me on the shoulder and announce to me and everyone around me why I had what I had on my shirt I kept quiet and tried my utmost best not to be heard, noticed or seen at all.

That played directly into prefect Jacob's hands because it was exactly what he had wanted from me, behaving. I wanted to smack him the entire day but there was no way I could do anything.

Honestly, the next time I accidentally steal someone's phone it will be this guy. Not my fault last time, just to remind, but hell next time it bloody will be.

I firmly decided that I would make the rest of the time I was tied to him hell, stupid arsehole.

Even as I returned home and washed and washed and washed it would not go anywhere and I had PE tomorrow. I would have to change in the toilets or something this was fucking embarrassing. If the teacher took my shirt again... I shudder to think what that reaction would be, I didn't dare try to imagine it.

I walked and skated to school so slowly I looked more like I was loitering on a skateboard than going anywhere.

I had so much going through my head it felt like it just wasn't fitting through the door and I was instead thinking about nothing and everything at the same time. Nothing was getting done inside my head.

Last night I went through a biology text book for an hour, just reading, and realised by the end of the hour I had no idea what the hell I had read because I was daydreaming the entire time. How do you even do that? I swear I was reading the words.

When I finally got to school I thought Jacob would be mad at me for coming in late as he prowled around the front gate, that stupid I-art-better-than-thou gaze pinned on me as he looked down at me.

The first thing I realised, however, I was on time. Students swarmed in through the gates and the prefects were lined up on either side of the school entrance supervising people as they walked in.

Supervising meaning judging what people were wearing. Were their collars ironed correctly, top buttons done up, skirts below the knees and whatever else. In my first year at this school, maybe a week in, I saw a guy get chewed out by our years prefect for having gel in his hair that made his hair look spiky.

I swear being a prefect should be the fastest way to get bullied, or hated in any case... but that was the bizarre thing about our school, getting verbally spanked by the prefects seemed to mean nothing in the long term.

People looked up to them more even than the teachers themselves. They were like little idols running around doing the teachers errands like unpaid teachers aids.

It wasn't completely unusual for them to take on other jobs too though, random things I had seen them do included being in charge of creating after school clubs the school wanted to have on their list of extracurricular activities, such as the astrology club which I was pretty sure only had two members in total but was still allowed to run. They were also in charge of the end of month cleaning rotation which was pretty much a nice way of describing pocket-sized drill sergeants screaming at you to clean your locker and sweep the floors on the last school day of the month.

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