My Choice

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So, this was it. The first class of the year! I've never been a math person, so having Stats at ten thirty wasn't something I was looking forward to, but I was at least happy to get back into the swing of things.
I changed a lot over the summer. I cut my hair, learned how to do more makeup, and finally got a new notebook for doodles and personal thoughts. A journal, I guess you could call it. I've been writing and drawing in it since June, and it's already a smudged, unorganized mess. But, hey, that's what journals are, right?
After taking a quick shower, I dried off my hair and got dressed. Navy overall-shorts over a black, short sleeved, striped shirt did the trick for me. That paired with a red lip and white converse was pretty much my style. It was comfortable but still nice-looking.
"Why do you get all dressed up if you're just going to class?" she asked me, and I shrugged.
"I like it," I replied.
"But it's not like you're doing it for anyone. You don't want a relationship-"
"Ever again," I interrupted.
"Yeah, okay," she continued. "You don't want a relationship and everyone else you know has always known you as sweaters and jeans, mascara and chapstick Rachel."
"I enjoy putting makeup on," I assured her. "It's fun for me."
She sighed and nodded unconvincingly, but I had no time to argue.
"You know J.D has this class, right?" Veronica reminded me.
"Yes," I said, putting my journal into my small, black backpack. "You told me this yesterday."
"I just wanted to make sure," she replied anxiously.
"I don't know what your issue is!" I snapped. "I've told you a million times; I made that decision. It was my choice. I don't care about him and his girlfriend, or if I have a class with him or any of that! Okay? Just let it go."
"Alright," Veronica agreed quietly. She then turned down the hall to go back to our bedroom.
"I'm gonna go to class," I hollered.
"Yep," she hollered back blankly.

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