edgy.png (Argentina)

Ah, yes, the proliferate edginess of the thirteen-year-olds who were just coming into the middle school and trying to cope with the fact that their teacher wasn’t going to lead them in lines to all of their classes anymore. One would think that, at least by the time that they were in tenth grade, they would finally be free from the edgy.png influence, but no- instead of going to church, which my parents had insisted be a requirement as long as I stayed under their roof, I’d gone and signed up for the job of math tutor in the middle school.

“So where were you this morning?” For all that the phone company boasted about how clear their call quality was, Samhain didn’t sound too good. “I saved a seat for you in our row and everything. Made me sit all by myself for a good two hours listening to the preacher rant about ‘Merry Christmas’ supposedly being illegal to say!”
“I was busy dedicating every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon to helping some junior emo rebels without causes with their pre-algebra. I’ll get out of worship night every week, at least.”
“That’s good.” I could hear a vacuum cleaner blaring on the other end of the call. “I should probably wash this mirror, you know? Lots of toothpaste flecks on it.”
“I don’t know why you’re telling me this, but okay… are you obsessing over your concealer again? It’s fine, I swear.”
“Aesthetics don’t take breaks, Samhain. I don’t want to be the fat socially-awkward mess of an internet addict I was as an eighth grader.”

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