misophonia | m.c

not like anything she'd worn before

Cassidy, Michael, and a few lazy stragglers were left in the hall as everyone else rushed into their classrooms before some of the stricter teachers started locking doors. Passing glances fell on the two's intertwined hands, making Cassidy's skin crawl. Michael didn't even seem to notice.

It's not that Cassidy didn't like holding his hand; she had no idea what to think of that. She just didn't like all the eyes scanning her as they passed. He was putting her into the middle of something she wanted no part in, attention. 

The girl practically held her breath as she shuffled beside Michael who was waltzing through the halls without a care in the world. She slowly let air fill her lungs again as he gently dropped her hand to spin around his lock's dial. When he opened his locker, Cassidy was quite surprised.

It was extremely neat. Binders and books all lined up on the left and then a little hanging shelving system on the right. Cassidy had expected everything to have just been shoved in, but it was organized. She stood a few steps behind him, watching as he carefully sorted through the little shelf unit. After about a minute he pulled out a black t-shirt. Or was it a tank top? Cassidy had to look hard to discover that he had cut the sleeves off.

"There's a bathroom right across the hall. I'll wait here." Michael smiled gently, taking her books from her arms and handing her the dark article of clothing.

As she turned to walk into the bathroom, his voice stopped her.

"Wait."

Cassidy turned on her heels, facing him with an expression displaying only mild confusion and curiosity. She tilted her head slightly to the left, waiting for him to explain why he had stopped her.

Michael bit his bottom lip, "Take your sweatshirt off."

She sighed, not feeling up to protesting. The girl dropped the shirt Michael had given her, letting it fall to the floor while she worked with the bulky sweatshirt. She pulled the dark green cloth off over her head. Cassidy stood there, the sweatshirt in her hands and her eyes on Michael. He raised his eyebrows so she gently tossed it to him before picking up the shirt he had given her and marching right into the bathroom.

Cassidy walked into the first stall, locking it tight behind her.  

She pulled off the gray shirt, which was still damp with Dr. Pepper, and pulled on the black shirt. After taking a moment to collect herself, she walked over to the mirrors over the sinks to get a look at herself. 

With a gasp, Cassidy shook her head rapidly. What does this even mean? She just stared at herself. Her hair was a bit wild and the mascara she had put on before school was smudged a bit beneath here eyes, especially noticeable on her right cheek. And to top it all off, the lovely shirt. It read "Sex Pistols" across the top and then "God Save The Queen". 

She figured Michael wouldn't let her negotiate her way out of this one so she just walked back out. If she was going to be wearing the shirt, she didn't feel the need to look uniform and regular. Either way something bad would happen; she could feel it.

 Michael smirked as she pushed the door open. He extended her books to her as she approached slowly, and she took them with no hesitation and held them against her chest.

"Do you like the shirt?" Michael raised one eyebrow, pushing himself off the wall of lockers so he was standing up quite straight and right in front of her.

Cassidy was unsure of how to respond. But she knew he was expecting an answer so she tried to force some words out of her mouth. "I-uh.. It's... interesting?" 

He just chuckled, taking a step closer and shaking his head. "What do you really think, Cassidy?"

"Won't I get stopped for dress code violation?" The girl blurted out, her face staring down at the floor. She hugged her books tighter against her chest, covering up the white graphics on the black shirt.