Oh, where was I?
Oh sure, the part where my mind and my soul did a somersault as I watched Clara remove a short ripped jean from the leather, with one long trouser and another shorts.
They weren't too short like knee high stuff and all . But it was ripped _RIPPED.
Actually, I had already decided to actually wear the long trouser, but then I don't think my opinion was even needed by these two, Clara picked the ripped shorts jean. Lyda gave her a thumbs up and my body also did another somersault laying back on my bed.
"Why was I stuck with them?" I murmured hearing them giggle .
I stood in the mirror after countless protesting and many rejection, Clara and Lyda still forced me to wear the clothes. I wore the long sleeve corset top and shorts—practically ripped jean.
Yes, I had a problem with it being ripped.
Come on, they even made me agree to wearing the other shorts, which they refused me bluntly.
Then I realized something: my friends were actually poking fun out of me while carrying out their stupid plan.
Clara tied my hair into a high bun, leaving some strands of hair to fall at the side of my face as she applied gel to my edges, doing all this curly baby hair thing.
I looked at myself in the mirror. I couldn't deny that I looked perfect—my hair, my shirt, and my stupid shorts which revealed my long slender legs.
I looked at Clara who gave Lyda a high five and then turned to me, giving me two thumbs up.
"Now to find the perfect shoe for her,"
Lyda said to Clara staring at the drawer I kept my shoes .
"Apparently that's the only thing she does have that right," Clara said . I gave her a confused expression before realizing what she actually meant.
She really was good at being sarcastic.
She went to where I kept my shoe picking out a long boot .
I actually bought that boot when I was trying to partake in a skiing competition. Then I realized skiing wasn't really my thing.
Yeah, it goes like this—it was just like this same day, me being forced to partake in some skiing competition by Clara and Lyda. This wasn't really the first time I was actually forced to do something against my will.
They gave me stupid excuses why I should join.
"About me refusing to partake in girls' sport," they both said.
So I joined, and the day was the most embarrassing day of my life. It was the worst. When I started, I went smoothly, and then when I tried jumping and doing some skills which I learnt from Clara, I lost my balance and I rolled in the snow, hitting my hand on a tree.
Long story cut short—I fainted and I broke my left arm. That was the worst thing because my mum refused me from going to the beach, saying,
"I can't swim with a broken hand."
So I sat in shade under an umbrella as I watched Clara and Lyda swim in the water, playing games with each other while I sat fuming with anger.
So I swore from that day onwards that I will never wear that stupid boots again—even if there was a gun pointed at me.
But here I am today putting on the same thing again while wondering what sought of stupidness struck me _for me to listen to the same people who made me break my arm.
We took the taxi after Lyda applied a little makeup on me. She was kinda of good at it, mostly because she learnt it during the holiday .
Lyda turned to us as she said,
"Aubrey just texted me that today is sport day."
"What!" I yelled a little, knowing fully well that I wasn't into anything sport—'cause you know the story about my broken left arm.
"Why are you yelling? Come on, can you just pick a particular sport for once?" Clara said, looking at me.
"No, of course I can't pick sport. Neither will I let you two silly nitwit pick a sport for me," I said, crossing my hands on my chest firmly ,looking outside the window.
"You can't still blame us for that. We practically helped you but you refused any sort of training from us. How is it our fault?" Clara said, shrugging . I slowly turned my head to look at her .
"Oh, let me see... how is it your fault... Oh, it's YOUR fault. Maybe because I told you I don't like skiing or skateboard or any kind of board sport, but hey, what do you twit say—'you should behave more like a girl and not a boy and partake in girls sport'," I said while imitating their stupid voice, not forgetting to use extra sarcasm on it.
"You got the words but you ain't got our tone," Clara said as she smirked at me.
"Yeah sure, our voice much better than that," Lyda said as I rolled my eyes at them.
Their voice is the worst.
"I told you about sport because Ken is in the volleyball team," Lyda said as I imagined Ken in the black sleeveless volleyball sport wear.
Gosh, that guy was so hot.
"So you can go cheer for him," Clara added .
"With those sexy clothes," Lyda chimed in sending me a wink , my cheeks heating up . I turned facing the window while they both giggled.
The driver stopped the car at the front of our school. Clara stepped out first, followed by Lyda. I took two deep breaths in. I wasn't used to dressing like this—ever.
I turned to my friends. Clara was wearing a tee checkered crop top and a black flay skirt, while Lyda was also wearing a long sleeve cropped sweater with a flare skirt. Me, staring at them, gave me a little confidence as I also stepped out.
We paid the taxi guy , walking into our school .