Don't Take It Personal

E I G H T

"GUESS who got their second strike at work?"

"What'd you do this time?" I shook my head at her, running a hand through my hair.

It was only around 8:15 in the morning.

I looked up at the bathroom mirror, checking myself to make sure I looked okay. My makeup was fine, and so was my hair.

I was wearing jeans with a scoop neck top. My hair was almost to my hips as I had straightened it.

I was obviously dressed up since today was picture day and the last school picture I would ever take. It was relieving as I knew I couldn't do this shit again.

Thank God for giving us one life.

"I missed a day of work without calling in," She said, looking at herself in the mirror beside me while pushing her hair in front of her shoulders. She had curled it.

She had on a jacket that slipped off one shoulder, showing the straps to her black tank top. She paired it with black leggings.

Her makeup was done and she looked really good.

"Then when my manager asked me why and I told her, she said it wasn't a valid excuse."

I shook my head at that information.

The bathroom door opened up and Brooklyn walked in.

She had on a white square neck dress with white converse. Her blonde hair was straight and over her shoulders.

She walked past Layla and me, going to the sink right next to us. She pulled lip gloss out of her makeup bag and unscrewed the top.

It was silent for a moment before the conversation continued.

"Why wasn't the excuse valid?" I asked Layla.

"I told her I was sick," She informed me. "She pretty much told me it wasn't valid because who gets sick in the summertime?"

My brows furrowed. "How old is your manager?"

"She's twenty or something, I don't know," She sighed. "But she's such a bitch, I swear. She dress coded me because I wasn't wearing the brand."

"That's reasonable," Brooklyn said with a clipped tone, stepping into the conversation. "Who goes to their job without supporting the business?"

Layla turned to the right, looking over at her. "When the fuck did I include you in this conversation?"

"The manager is my sister," Brooklyn nodded slowly, acting as if we couldn't comprehend that. "It has something to do with me when you're calling her out of her name."

I lifted my shoulders. "Nothing you're saying is gonna change how she feels. Your sister is a bitch."

"The fact that you guys use that word so much pisses me off," Brooklyn stated, putting her lip gloss back and closing her makeup bag. "You guys act like you both aren't the definition of one."

"I mean, sure," Layla shrugged. "At least I can admit that I am one. Doesn't seem like you're self aware enough to admit that about yourself."

"I'm not concerned about your opinions on me," Brooklyn slightly laughed. "All that you are concerned about is starting shit." She then looked to me. "You too, Asra."

"What shit do I start?" I questioned.

"Uhm," She pretended to think, leaning on the sink. "Literally any day of the week?"

"You're gonna have to be a little more specific."

"Maybe it wasn't you," Brooklyn nodded. "You and your cousin both have trashy ass personalities. I tend to get you two confused."