Roger Madison studied his reflection long and hard. Something had been nagging Jon's father since he got up this morning, but couldn't quite place it. His school uniform looked all right. He put his hands down to his side, the hem of his pleated skirt stopping just past his fingertips.
"Yep, definitely regulation," he said to himself, then frowned. He wished he could wear it shorter. It's not like there were any boys at his school to distract. Or were there? That fact confused him for a moment. He took a look at the school crest embroidered on his cardigan: "St. Cecilia's School for Girls". Right, so obviously there wouldn't be any boys there; that wouldn't make sense.
Roger shrugged and broke away from the mirror, then sat on the bed to put on his knee socks and mary-janes. He was glad he'd had time to shave his legs this morning, even though his wife had been on him about clogging the tub drain in the master bathroom. Whatever, she probably didn't remember what it was like to be a teenager like him - all the pressure to fit in and look pretty.
But it looked like she was over it by the time he'd made his way downstairs. She was at the kitchen table, sipping her coffee and reading the paper. His son, Jon, was there too, eating a bowl of cereal.
"Oh, hey Dad!" Jon said when he looked up.
"Mornin' sport!" Roger greeted before taking a seat at the table and crossing his legs. His wife looked up from her paper.
"It's about time you joined us! Your toast is getting cold," she pushed a plate towards him.
"Sorry Linda, it's almost bikini season! I'm trying to lose a few pounds!"
"Honey, you know breakfast is the most important meal of the day!"
Roger rolled his eyes, "Fine." He began munching on the toast hoping the carbs would at least go to his chest rather than his thighs. He glanced at the clock.
"Say, son, shouldn't you get going off to school?"
Jon looked at his watch, "Oh yeah. Thanks, dad! I've gotta meet up with Karyn about... about... hmm..." He looked confused for a moment. "Well, see ya!" He turned and headed out the door, but as he did so Roger couldn't help but sense that something was different about his son. But what was it? He really couldn't tell - maybe it was just more of that confusion he felt earlier, it would pass eventually.
But then, another strange thought crossed his mind.
"Linda?"
"Yes, dear?" his wife replied, not looking up from the newspaper.
"Why do I go to a different school than the kids?" The public school was only a handful of blocks away - why was his wife driving him halfway across town to a different, private school?
Linda put down her paper and looked at Roger, somewhat sternly this time.
"Honey, we've been over this. That's not a public school uniform is it?"
"No."
"Exactly. It's a uniform for St. Cecilia's School for Girls. You wouldn't be wearing it if you weren't a student there, right?"
"Right." Gosh, that made so much sense. He wasn't sure why he'd been so confused about it.
