OCTAVIAN COUNTRY DAY SCHOOL
PRINCIPAL BURNS'S OFFICE
1:27 PM
October 31st
“I told you we'd get in trouble,” Kristen whispered to her friends. She was holding her stomach and rocking back and forth as if she had food poisoning. “My mother is never going to let me leave the house again. I'm going to be homeschooled.”
They were all seated on The Bench, an antique church pew that was pressed up against the wall outside Principal Burns's office. They could just barely hear her clipped tones as she called their parents, one by one, to tell them about the “incident.”
“This is so stupid,” Massie said. “My parents raise so much money for this school and this is how they treat us? Puh-lease!”
“Don't worry.” Dylan hooked a red curl with her pinky finger and tossed it away from her face. “I'll have my mom dedicate a whole episode of The Daily Grind to this injustice.” Whenever Dylan didn't approve of a situation, she threatened to have her famous mother expose it on her hit morning show. “She hates when people try to force their beliefs on others, especially when it involves the arts.”
“Enough talking, girls, this is an office, not a birthday party.” The cranky secretary whipped off her tortoiseshell glasses and twirled them around her index finger. When she finished glaring at the girls, she slid the glasses back on her head and returned to her computer.
“She thinks she's in the Wild, Wild Westchester,” Massie whispered.
The girls giggled.
“One more sound and I'll blast the air-conditioning,” the secretary said. “Your half-naked bodies will be frozen solid in under ten seconds.”
Massie slowly opened her phone and the other girls did the same, except for Kristen. She was too busy twisting long pieces of blond hair around her shaking fingers.
MASSIE: LOOK AT THE DOOR.
DYLAN: WHAT?
MASSIE: THE SIGN. READ IT.
ALICIA: P. BURNS. SO?
MASSIE: SO C A DR.
All three girls burst out laughing, which made Kristen turn purple with rage.
“If she hears you laugh, she'll get even madder,” she said, pointing to the principal's office.
“What's she going to do?” Massie asked. “Dress us to death?”
“Precisely, Ms. Block,” Principal Burns said.
Massie's jaw dropped when she saw the tall, scrawny, gray-haired woman standing above her. Rumor had it that Principal Burns picked orange peels out of the garbage can and ate them because they were packed with antioxidants. To keep from getting scared, Massie tried to picture her digging through the trash. It wasn't working.
“Each of your parents has been notified, and they will deal with you however they see fit,” she continued. “But as long as you are in my school, you are to dress like young ladies, NOT Vegas showgirls.” She lifted her watch right up to her eyeballs and checked the time. “Please report to Nurse Adele's office immediately and cover yourselves up with the garments she keeps in the lost and found. If I see so much as a fingernail uncovered, I'll have you all arrested for indecent exposure. Now go!”
The girls left in silence and did what they were told. Unfortunately, Claire had taken anything remotely decent over the last few weeks, so there wasn't a lot to choose from. After sifting through last season's rejects Massie, Kristen, Dylan, and Alicia emerged in time for fifth period. They still turned heads when they walked down the hall, but this time it was for all the wrong reasons.
Massie wore a bright red T-shirt that had a chocolate stain right above her left boob, which unfortunately matched the pair of XXL mustard-colored cords that she had to hold up when she walked.
Alicia found a floor-length denim skirt and paired it with a Gap jean shirt. Alicia called it a “rodeo-chic” look, but Massie simply referred to it as “rodee-oh no, you didn't!”
Dylan was forced to squeeze into a pair of Sevens that she had to leave unbuttoned because they were too small. She matched them with a long tie-dyed T-shirt that covered up the open fly.
Kristen was the only one who got to wear decent clothes—she changed back into the leave-the-house outfit she had stuffed in her locker earlier that morning.
“Having strict parents finally paid off,” she said to herself as she buttoned up the itchy tweed blazer her mother had bought her at Macy's.
On their way to class they passed two girls wearing torn T-shirts and miniskirts.
“Those ripped shirts are sooo out,” Massie hissed as she passed them.
“Already?” one of the girls asked.
“Try to keep up, will ya?” Massie walked past them, knowing they were memorizing her outfit, trying to get a handle on the latest trend.
She couldn't wait for Monday, when half the girls in her grade would be dressed like Winnie-the-Pooh.