*Trinity's POV*
"My dress?" I asked in pure confusion. "What do you mean by ‘my dress’?"
"Did Amber tell you nothing?" Mr. Withers rolled his eyes at me, and I bit back a retort.
Amber? How was this Amber’s fault? She worked harder than any of us. Did he ever consider that maybe she just forgot? It was understandable, but to Mr. Withers, forgetting was a crime. If you forgot, you were incompetent and that attitude really pissed me off.
I was also angry that he didn't just answer the question that I asked and rather asking a question in return. I really needed to know what freaking dress he was talking about, and why I would need a dress in the first place. The communication here was horrible and I could only handle so much.
I thought of so many things to say—nasty, horrible things. But I couldn’t. I had to keep it civil. So, I bit my tongue and instead, kept my response short and professional.
"No," was all I managed to say.