26
The Uniform
Doesn’t Make the Woman,
But it Sure Does Bring
Out the Insecurities
Pants or skirt?
I stare at my closet and all the clothes neatly lined up in it, courtesy of my cousin. I know I should have done this last night, but after a giant plate of nachos followed by three episodes of Legacies and a marathon gossip session over my jam-packed day, I didn’t have the energy to do much more than lie in bed and think about Jaxon.
I turn toward my desk—and the paper Jaxon brought me yesterday, which is lying directly under the copy of Twilight he sent me. Not because I don’t like it but because I like it too much, and I don’t want to share it with anyone. Not even Macy or Heather.
It’s a page ripped straight out of a copy of Anaïs Nin’s journals—I don’t know which one, because the heading doesn’t say. I almost googled it yesterday to find out, but there’s something special about not knowing, something intimate about having only this one page of her diary to go by. To have only these words that Jaxon wanted me to see.
Deep down, I am not different from you. I dreamed you, I wished for your existence.
The page has a lot more than that simple phrase on it, but as I read and reread it about a hundred times yesterday, these are the words that jumped out at me over and over again. Partly because they were so swoon-worthy and partly because I’m starting to feel the same way about him. About Jaxon, whose deepest thoughts and heart and pain seem to so closely echo mine.
It’s a lot to take in at any time, let alone on my first day, when my mouth is dry and my stomach is churning with nerves.
Which is why I’m currently standing here, in front of my closet with absolutely no idea of what to wear. Because I obviously worried about the wrong first-day stuff…
Do the girls usually wear their uniform pants or skirts here? Or doesn’t it matter? I try to remember what Macy wore the last couple of days, but it’s all a blank besides the tropical-print snow pants she wore for the snowball fight.
“Skirt,” Macy says as she walks out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her head. “There are wool tights to go with it in the bottom drawer of your dresser.”
I close my eyes in relief. Thank God for cousins.
“Awesome, thanks.” I slip one of the black skirts off the hanger and step into it, then add a white blouse and black blazer before going over to my dresser for a pair of black tights.
“If you wear the blouse, you’ve also got to wear the tie,” Macy tells me as she opens one of my dresser drawers and pulls out a black tie with purple and silver stripes on it.
“Seriously?” I demand, looking from her to the tie and back again.
“Seriously.” She drapes it around my neck. “Do you know how to tie one?”
“Not a clue.” I head back toward the closet. “Maybe I should go for one of the polo shirts.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll show you. It’s a lot easier than it looks.”
“If you say so.”
She grins. “I do say so.”
She starts by draping the tie unevenly around my neck and wrapping the longer end over the shorter end. A couple more wraps and a tuck and pull through—all narrated by my cousin—and I’ve got a perfectly tied tie around my neck…even if it is a little tight.
“Looks good,” Macy says as she steps back to admire her handiwork. “I mean, the knot’s not as fancy as some of the guys wear, but it gets the job done.”
“Thanks. I’ll look up a couple of videos on YouTube this afternoon, make sure I know what I’m doing before I have to tie it again tomorrow.”
“It’s pretty easy. You’ll get the hang of it in no time. In fact—” She breaks off at the loud knock on our door.
“Are you expecting someone?” I ask as I move toward the door, motioning for her to move back toward the bathroom, as all she’s currently wearing is a towel.
“No. I usually meet my friends in the cafeteria.” Her eyes go wide. “Do you think it’s Jaxon?” She whispers his name like she’s afraid he’ll hear it through the door.
“I didn’t think so, no.” But now that she’s planted the idea in my head… Ugh. My already nervous stomach does a series of somersaults. “What do I do?” My own voice drops to a whisper without the conscious decision to do so on my part. He texted me last night before bed, but I haven’t seen him since he came to my room yesterday around lunch, and after lying awake half the night thinking about him, I’m feeling hella awkward.
She looks at me like I’m missing the obvious. “Answer the door?”
“Right.” I smooth my sweaty palms down the sides of my skirt and reach for the door handle. I have no idea what to do, what to say…although judging by how tight this ridiculous tie suddenly feels, I may not be able to say anything at all before it actually strangles me.
I glance back at Macy, who shoots me an encouraging thumbs-up one last time, then take as deep a breath as I can manage before pulling open the door.
All my nerves dissipate in the space from one strangled breath to the next, largely because the person standing at our door is most definitely not Jaxon Vega.
“Hi, Uncle Finn! How are you?”
“Hi, Gracey girl.” He leans down and drops an absentminded kiss on the top of my head. “I just stopped by to check on your ankle and finally deliver your schedule.” He holds a blue sheet of paper out to me. “And to wish you luck on your first day of class. You’re going to do great!”
I’m not so sure about that, but I’m determined to think positive today, so I smile and say, “Thanks. I’m excited. And my ankle’s sore, but okay.”
“Good. I made sure you got into that art class you wanted and that you have our best history teacher, since that’s your favorite subject. But check over your schedule, make sure you’re not repeating any classes. I did my best, but mistakes happen.”
He tweaks my cheek like I’m a five-year-old. It’s such a Dad thing to do that my heart aches a little.
“I’m sure it’s perfect,” I tell him.
Macy snorts. “Don’t bet on it. If Dad did it himself instead of letting Mrs. Haversham do it, no telling what he’s got you signed up for.”
“Mrs. Haversham did it,” he tells her with a wink. “I just supervised. Brat.” He walks over and gives her a one-armed shoulder hug and the same kiss on the top of her head that he gave me.
“Ready for that math test today?” he asks.