#Chapter229
/"You can’t use those./" The snooty tone comes at me from the dark-haired girl, Olivia. She seems to be the class queen, miss popular and all the other students look my way at her raised haughty tone. She’s pointing at scissors on the table that I haven’t even touched. They were here when I came over and I try not to frown at her or her terrible efforts at a dominant stance. Typical bitch mode with a jutted hip and hands on her waist.
Pahlease.
/"I’m not. I have my own./" I hold up the rose gold handled scissors in my hand. The ones Arry bought for me that go with all my kit in my sewing bag and the only thing I ever use. All from him and all initialed for me with a pretty ornate logo and an intwined rose in the lettering.
My supportive boy.
