OMG, I Kissed A Player

"Goodness, Essel, please don't tell me you're planning to wear that to school today," Ella exclaims, with a horrified expression. "What's the issue?" I inquire, glancing at my outfit. "I think I look perfectly fine." "I'm sorry, Grace Essel," she says, her typically cheerful demeanor replaced by a stern gaze. I flinch at the mention of my full name. "You shouldn't wear sweatpants and a T-shirt on the first day of school. People might assume you've been out of touch and don't care about fashion or trends." I look at her with bewilderment. "It doesn't matter to me," I say. She sighs. "Well, you're not supposed to show that to others." "What's the problem?" I inquire, feeling even more bewildered. "Because," she stammers. "You're just not. Now go put on these." She tosses a pair of high-waisted black ripped jeans and a white crop top with words on it at me. "Or I'll ensure that we arrive late to school." "Why would that even be a concern for me?" She is well aware of the reasons why it would bother me. She smirks at me. "Because despite your dislike for school, you have this strange fixation on attendance that I could never quite grasp. I mean, if you despise school, why would you care about being punctual and never skipping a single day–" She constantly attempts to persuade me to wear crop tops and jeans, even though I prefer to wear something else, by using the threat of being late. However, I always refuse and end up going to school in sweatpants and T-shirts because I am more determined than she is and I will never give in. "I'm not a tomboy or someone who dislikes the clothes—don't get me wrong, the clothes are cute, I just never feel like wearing them. "I know," she admits reluctantly. "But this year is an exception." "And why is that?" I tease her, confident that whatever she has in mind is bound to fail." "How long have you two been in here?"Mom walks into my room with Dad following closely behind. "It's not important," Dad says casually. "The important thing is that you're going to wear whatever Ella is trying to convince you to wear." "She's asking me to wear these." I show the jeans with tears running all the way up the thighs.Dad's expression reflects confusion as he draws out the word "And?" It's clear he probably thinks I'm too dense to understand that he doesn't care. I may not be the brightest, but still. How rude."Are you not supposed to be objecting to me wearing them because I'm your daughter and no boy should be able to see even a hint of my thighs or stomach?" Pardon my assumption, but I believed that was typical fatherly behavior. Ella giggles, capturing everyone's attention. "Apologies." "Look, dear," Dad says in a careful tone. "It's just... sometimes it's hard for me to believe that you're a girl." "Wow, that stings, Dad." I shift my gaze back and forth between my parents and Ella before I speak. "To begin with, I don't understand why my gender is being doubted just because I do all those things. And secondly, I still refuse to wear the clothes." They all moan together. "Here's an idea, darling," Mom suggests. "You allow Ella to choose your school and school event outfits, while still dressing however you like otherwise, and in return, I'll give you a half-off discount on the amount you need to put in the swear jar for the entire first month, last month, and the month right before Christmas break. "I almost said it, but then I reconsidered after thinking about what my mom just said." "Okay," I reply sharply. "Alright," Mom says. "Just to confirm, we're in agreement, right?" I briefly ponder if I should rethink my decision. Allowing Ella, of all my friends (not that I have many others besides her and Winner), to plan my outfit every day could easily be one of the worst choices I could make. "We're in agreement."