Mascara applied, lipstick dabbed, hair styled the exact way I wanted it to be. Dress on with the heels to match. They'll kill later but I don't care, it's the Leaver's Ball, the final social event in the school calendar that we would ever be taking part in. In four short months we'll be at university or college or in jobs. We're officially adults, on a first name basis with our teachers but after seven years if calling them "sir" and "miss" it feels wrong.
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