𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲

𝟑-𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐉𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓷𝓷

My alarm sounds through the dorm room at exactly six a.m.

Leaning over I turn off the alarm before sitting up in bed. I stretch my arms above my head, and yawn. 

Today is the first day of senior year, my last first day of being at Davenport Academy. 

"Is it time to get up already?" my roommate asks, still bundled up under her covers. 

I ignore her question as I get my uniform out for the day. 

Then I grab my toiletry bag and head to the bathrooms. 

I do my business and then brush my teeth as I wait for my curling iron to heat. 

Even though the first class doesn't start until eight a.m. I wake up early so I can take my time getting ready. 

Once I finish brushing and flossing I grab my curling iron and loosely curl my long blonde hair. 

My hair goes down to my waist, which is the length I have always kept it at since I was thirteen. 

After I finish curling the last section I run my fingers through the curls before unplugging my curling iron.

I then start my make up. Nothing fancy just some concealer under my eyes, blush, mascara and lip gloss. 

Grabbing my bag I head back to my dorm room. 

I remove my shorts and shirt before applying my special made strawberry lotion. 

My mom had it made for me in Italy after I caught her stealing some of my dads watches. 

They both pay me off in whatever way they can. 

I then change my underwear and put on a bra before slipping on my clothes. 

I do it in a certain order every time, my therapist says I have OCD. Something to do with being in control because of my parents and blah, blah, blah. 

Luckily I only see Mariah every six weeks. 

Ok, back to my uniform. I always start with the socks first. It's easier to roll them on when you aren't wearing clothes. 

After that I slip on my shirt before putting on and zipping up my skirt. That way you don't have all that hassle of tucking it in. 

My skirt is two inches shorter than most thanks to Sadie's talented hemming work. 

Her and Della have history, one of those on again off again things. Still when they were on I was able to get her to hem my skirt last year.

After that I slip on my black close toed heels before putting on my emerald blazer.

By the time I am completely done - even put on my perfume and grabbed my bag - Poppy is still asleep in her bed. 

For some reason - I am blaming it on the ungodly hour I woke up - I go over and tap her shoulder with my folder. 

"Wake up." She grumbles something under her breath and turns over.

I tap her with my finger this time, "Sweetie being late won't make a good first impression." I say a tiny bit louder. 

She groans, "What time is it?" She asks through a yawn. 

I look at the digital clock on her nightstand, "Seven forty two." I say and she shoots up in her bed. 

"I'm going to be late." She freaks before quickly getting out of bed. She got up so fast she almost knocked me over. 

This is what I get for being nice.