The Cinderella Agreement (Completed) [Featured Story]

13: The Assjacket

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It had reached that time of the year when in the morning it was chilly sweater-weather, and then at afternoon you stood a chance of dying from a heatstroke. Mit tugged at the neckline of her jumper in an attempt to draw its now itchy fabric from her sweating skin, silently cursing at Finn, who was laughing beside her with his jacket slung over his shoulder.

"God, it's feels like I'm wearing literal hell," she groaned, quickening her pace to her locker, where she could relieve her sufferings.

"No one forced you to wear a sweater to school in September now, did they?" replied Finn in a patronizing tone, subtly rubbing in his clearly better overgarment choices in her face.

"I wore a shirt underneath so jokes on you," she paused to stick out a pink tongue maturely, "so you and your asshat jacket can go flush your opinions down the toilet."

"Wait," he said, as they slowed to a stop in front of her fading metal of her locker door, "is asshat really the correct term for this situation?" On the receiving end of a bemused look, he continued, "Like, we're talking about a jacket, not a hat. Shouldn't the term used be assjacket? Or if the case is about a shoe, ass-shoe? Why is it always about hats? The dressing world is so prejudiced, but perhaps I'm putting too much thought into this?"

"I'm too hungry to construct a response to that statement."

He leaned his back against an adjacent locker, his eyes rolling slowly with his mouth half open, looking every bit of an angsty teenager in the middle of mouthing off to his parent. "Well, excuse me for trying to be 'woke'."

"If you want to be woke, talk about racism issues or the rising global terrorism." Her fingers fiddled with her locker dial, trying to focus hard enough to be able to input the correct digits.

"Terrorism is a riveting topic of discussion, I mean, look at how much you terrorize me everyday."

"I do not terrorize you!" she shouted unintentionally, blushing as a couple of inquisitive stares turned upon her, before repeating in a much lower tone, as if he hadn't heard her the first time, "I do not terrorize you."

"Alright, Laden the—"

"Finish that sentence, and I will rip out your tongue and force feed it to you."

He bit down on the said tongue, as if savoring the feeling of it in his mouth and not down his throat, then fell quiet immediately, but not before muttering, "Bully," with a sullen tone and a childish pout on his lips.

Mit's locker door finally swung open, causing her to sigh in relief. Her fingers clung onto the hem of her jumper, and she pulled it up and over her head, quite oddly imagining herself in the place of a peeling banana. Girded with a cooler air, her wallet, and the promise of food soon entering her stomach, her mood lifted a fraction—