The New Girl, Chapter 8

Having a day off due to Graduation Campaign class being cancelled (which in turn is because of almost everyone being at the IDN (idN?) Conderence), I suddenly found the urge to rewrite Ghostopia! Or rather, doing a detailed outline. Not by sitting down in front of the computer, but utilising the good old-fashioned way of scribbling stuff down on a notepad. Tweaks on the character backgrounds here and there, throwing out those unneccessary plot devices, and fashioning a climax appear to have done wonders for the story - why, you might even see it on the next episode of "Extreme Makeover"! Nah, just kidding. You'll most likely get to read it at the end of this year, when a (shudder) permanent school holiday will give me more time than I need. The mere thought of it is enough to send me scurrying to the comfort of The New Girl, Chapter Eight. Now THAT'S how you change topics.

"Girls, please remain in line for a short while. We'll be conducting a spot check on your attire."
A collective groan rose from the crowd. It was, as you might have guessed, Monday morning assembly time and the sudden spot check couldn't have come at a worse time for May. She'd hoped to rush off to class early to complete some unfinished Math homework. Amid an undercurrent of grumblings the students put down their bags and continued standing, waiting for the prefects to go through each line.
Come on, hurry up! The prefects seemed to be taking their sweet time showing off their prowess in spotting wrongs in uniforms.
At last a snotty-faced prefect came to her. She cocked up a lip and eyed May from head to toe, as if checking a present for defects. It made May mightily uncomfortable, more so when she was used to being the one who checked others.
"Your skirt is too short."
"WHAT?!" May retorted much louder than she expected herself to. She looked down to see for herself. It was a rather debatable case. The hemline was howering somewhere near the upper edge of her kneecap.
"I said, your skirt is too short. It's above your knee."
"Nonsense. It fitted fine just last week."
"Well, then you must have grown taller over the weekend."
Somehow, her candid remark irked May. "I wish you'd use some sense when talking."
She glared daggers at her. "Go stand at the back. NOW."
Scowling to herself, May marched to the back with the rest of the "delinquents", as she used to call them. You had your regular collection of girls with streaks of red in their hair, overly elaborate earrings, illegal fringes, and the short-skirted ones like her. It would have been an utterly humiliating experience were it not for the fact that no one knew her here.