Fish laid one of the uniforms over the rumpled spread of his bed. He looked at it, arms akimbo, then pivoted over to his computer, shuffled around the mouse, tapped a few keys, and dialed up the speakers as it blared a wash of music. He returned to the uniform, staring as the woofers steadily rattled in their cages. Wearily he raked his right hand through his hair, his left index and thumb pinching his lower lip.
He touched his toes to pick up the page he tore out. Earmarking the dress code as a picture of a smiling black student, in uniform, knowingly acknowledging the camera as he happily trotted off to a class somewhere. Fish tore the corner picture off and flicked it under his desk before picking up a highlighter to carefully go over each line of restriction.
- Dress shirt must be buttoned and tucked in pants.
- Tie must be worn at all times.
- Male students must wear dark khakis or slacks. Female students must wear dark knee-length skirts.
- Underwear must not be visible.
- No sneakers or caps.
“Is there something wrong, Starfish?”
Fish bristled. The use of his full name gave away her remorse. His mother wouldn’t even look at him and just kept dodging from the stove to the refrigerator. He hated to see her capitulate like this, which, of course, drove him to take advantage of her capitulation.
“I need seven more uniforms.”
Okay, so I’m thinking Fish is now going to undertake a project of altering the uniforms to see what he can get away with. I need some cool ideas, though, on what he might do. Know of any?