Abnormality in normality.

🅒🅗🅐🅟🅣🅔🅡 ➏: 🅑🅡🅔🅐🅚🅘🅝🅖 🅣🅗🅔 🅢🅘🅛🅔🅝🅒🅔.

ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕜𝕠'𝕤 𝕡.𝕠.𝕧.

I tried my best, I really did, but I couldn't just do it. At first, I put up with it, but it came to an inevitable point that I couldn't hold it in anymore. Miss Shizuka forcefully took me to my school tuck shop to test and fit my new school uniform. So here I was, in the stupid school's tuck shop when I could be taking a beautiful doze, and that in itself was extremely infuriating.

The tuck shop was a cramped, dimly lit room filled with racks of identical uniforms, the air thick with the scent of new fabric and faintly of dust. At first, I put up with everything. I wore the blazer, the crisp white shirt, the tightly knotted tie, the itchy waistcoat, the silly hat, the knee-high socks, and even the uncomfortable shoes. But when they brought out the skirt, I lost it. It was as if they were just trying to test my limits. If they were trying to make me angry, they were doing a damn good job, and trust me, I am not very good at holding in my anger.

Why the hell should I wear that piece of shit? I hate it! It's so freaking uncomfortable! I would much rather stick to trousers and shorts, thank you very much.

Apparently, it's mandatory for girls to wear a skirt as part of their school uniform. I had just learned what a school uniform was, and I really didn't know what mandatory meant, but what I did know was that I was not wearing that annoying piece of clothing, no matter what they did.

"There's no way I am wearing that," I calmly stated despite the irritation boiling inside me. Miss Beanpole, as I'd mentally dubbed the tall, slender attendant, tried talking me out of it. For thirty minutes, she and the attendant tried to coerce me into wearing the skirt. Their attempts were futile.

"You have to wear the skirt. There's no choice in this matter," Miss Beanpole insisted, her voice grating on my nerves. Persistently, she continued to implore me to try on the skirt when a passing boy caught my attention.

"Can I wear the boy's school uniform?" I exclaimed loudly, catching Miss Shizuka and the attendant off guard. "Huh? Eh?" both Miss Shizuka and the attendant responded in bewilderment.

"I am sure you guys heard me damn well the first time. I asked if I can wear the boy's school uniform," I said, letting my irritation show on my face. Miss Shizuka promptly dismissed the notion.

"That's definitely not possible," she asserted, her voice taking on an annoyed edge. "Besides, even if it was possible, it's not my place to make such a decision," added the attendant after Miss Shizuka.

Growing increasingly irritated, I demanded, "Then who is?"

"You can ask the principal for permission," the attendant suggested tentatively, her voice tinged with a mix of fear and nervousness.

"Do you have the principal's phone number? If you do, please call him," I instructed Miss Shizuka. Without waiting for her response, I interjected, "I promise you if you buy that piece of crap, I will burn it up and drop it for you on your bed." Understanding my unwavering stance, she swiftly retrieved her phone from her side pocket and dialed the principal.

Miss Shizuka's face was a mask of frustration as she held the phone to her ear, her knuckles white from gripping it tightly. "Halloo, who is this?" a male voice echoed through the phone, sounding both annoyed and sleepy.

"Who else will it be! It's Takahashi," Miss Shizuka retorted, obviously irritated by this man's voice or perhaps the man himself.

"Oh, Miss Takahashi, it's been a while. Why the sudden phone call?" His tone shifted from annoyance to feigned politeness, a hint of amusement lacing his words.