|Pantone swatch: Oxblood.|
Holding her breath, Xandie examined her bobby sox and oxblood penny loafers for any exonerating stratagem. Would she be axed? Exiled behind the plexiglass, X-raying boxes of tax-exempt Exacto knives and Bics, enduring exponentially excruciating water-cooler conversations about “exotic” Cheez Stix flavours? Xanadu belted exuberant from the speakers. Xandie exhaled, suddenly inspired.
“Don’t,” said her exasperated control, “try any x-rated antics on me now, you pixie. We could both be expelled before the 6th-form prom.”