‘Slovenly.’ The word rang in her ears. Sandy wasn’t sure what it meant, but her mother’s tone of voice made it quite clear that it wasn’t a compliment.
‘Go to the bathroom and fix yourself up, love,’ her father whispered as she went past. ‘Don’t give her a reason to start on you.’
Sandy didn’t think she’d ever given her a reason. But a reason was always found. It didn’t matter that her uniform skirt was long: she was still called a slut. If her hair was out, she was a vixen. If it was back, she was a tease. The one time she dared try make-up it had become physical. Now, in the bathroom, Sandy stared in the mirror and wished she were anyone else.