As she walked through the hallways, a murmur followed her, growing stronger with each passing second. It was composed of gasps, cries of astonishment, and whispered speculation.
She blushed a little bit, but she had made her mind up before leaving for school.
As she gathered her books at her locker, she could hear the background noise. She could sense other girls gathering at the intersections to peek down her hallway, to see if the rumors were true.
When a friend dared to approach, a question clear on her face, she dismissed her with a look.
By the time all the students were settled into their seats in Calc II, everyone had heard. Even the teachers.
Mr. Daniels faced the class. “Miss Anderson?” he began.
She rose and stood beside her desk; she met his questioning, accusing gaze.
“Would you tell me, please, why you have chosen to disrupt the school today by parading about in your panties?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied. “My father saw me headed out the door this morning. And he said ‘Angela! You are not going to school in that skirt!’” There were some muffled giggles from the class. “And I was carefully raised, sir, to be a perfectly dutiful daughter.”
— Frenulum
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