Playing His Game

l's

re planning to wear that to school today,"

e, glancing at my outfit. "I

ally cheerful demeanor replaced by a stern ga

first day of school. People might assume you've been

ilderment. "It doesn't

u're not supposed to

" I inquire, feeling

osses a pair of high-waisted black ripped jeans and a white crop top w

for me?" She is well aware of th

e fixation on attendance that I could never quite grasp. I mean, if you despise

something else, by using the threat of being late. However, I always refuse and end up going to s

e clothes-don't get me wrong, the clothes ar

eluctantly. "But this

, confident that whatever she

here?"Mom walks into my room wi

mportant thing is that you're going to wear wha

" I show the jeans with tears r

ut the word "And?" It's clear he probably thinks

ed to be objecting to me wearing them because I'm your daughter and

t I believed that was ty

apturing everyo

logi

ne. "It's just... sometimes it's hard

at sting

"To begin with, I don't understand why my gender is being doubted just beca

l moan

ea, darling,"

like otherwise, and in return, I'll give you a half-off discount on the amount you need to put in

reconsidered after thinking

I reply

Just to confirm, we're

y friends (not that I have many others besides her and Winner), to plan m

in agre

e weekend h

ading for the door. Once the coast was clear, I wearily waved to the teach

avy sigh as I opened my locker and tossed my books inside. Looking at my reflection in the small mirror attached to the door, I noticed my brown hair tied up in

s. I loathed her, but I couldn't deny that, despite her artificial appearance, she was the epitome of what I wanted to look like. She was stunning. Her golden locks flowed elegantly down her back, framing her slender jawline. She was dre

s envious of her. She enjoyed the idea that I would do anything to resemble her. Instead of stopping the bullying, it only fueled it,

t a small chuc

surrounding area. Students stood by and observed as the situation unfolded - most just walked past and ignored my distress, but a few looked on with em

e satisfaction of seeing me appear weak or vulnerable to their t

he unexpectedly reached out and knocked the rest of the books out of my hand. She smirked, p

departed, and I found relief in no longer being the center of attention. As I gathered my bo

smiled in their direction, undoubtedly vying for his attention, while the guys greeted him with sm

eatures. His name was Stephen. I observed him looking at the people around them with disdain. He casually dismissed any girls see

t bring my books, I wouldn't have anything to study over the weekends, leaving me with nothing to do. The only thing I did outside of school hours was stu

', with his hands tucked into his pockets, a smil