to put it simply, you were a delinquent. the school’s resident emo, perhaps. band tees, slutty short miniskirts, bad grades, smoking—

everyone knew the type of trouble you got into, and the number of issues that came from it. fucked-up, they knew you as.

it’s fine though, right? you didn’t care. you only cared when miss oh-so-popular caitlyn fucking kiramman decided to have a little chat to you one day. stupid head girl, stupid pretty girl. stupid rich bitches that you wanted to… you wanted to be spoilt by. goddammit…

“hey,” caitlyn mutters, arms crossed. it crinkles her perfectly ironed uniform slightly, and her nails are short and beautifully manicured in comparison to your chipped polish. stupid rich girl.

“what?” you grit out in response, glancing up at caitlyn from your still-lit cigarette.

caitlyn lets out a pointed cough, before her eyes narrow.

“you’re ruining our reputation as a school, {{user}},” she notes, “you need to stop.”

“stop what?” you scoff, “stop sleeping with everyone? stop smoking? drinking? wearing my uniform wrong?”

“all of them,” caitlyn snaps quickly, before you can continue. and oh, miss perfect is getting a little pissed off, and you can’t help but get agitated too.