Even Kate Richards, sophomore ringleader and the least objectionable of the bunch, put down her curling iron to scooch over. Kate had earned her street cred with me during her freshmen haze last year when a senior handed her a pair of scissors and asked Kate to show her respect by sacrificing her waist-length locks. Half my class still hadn’t gotten over Kate’s great defiance when she stormed out of her own haze, but personally, I had to respect a girl with that much verve.

This morning, Kate knew — as they all knew — that it wasn’t like a senior to primp on Bambi turf. In one fell swoop, she stacked her entire clique’s cosmetic cases in the crook of her arm and cleared a space for me on the countertop. I winked my thanks and she winked back, tossing the curled portion of her now-famous honey-colored hair over one shoulder. Casually, I plunked down my own cosmetic case. I glanced in the mirror. My dark hair fell effortlessly around my shoulders, making my dark brown eyes shine. My skin was smooth and clear. But there was an annoying worry wrinkle right in the middle of my forehead. I took another breath and pulled out my eyelash curler.

Through the one eye not clamped by what Mike called my medieval torture device, I surveyed my effect on the now-silent scene.

“What’s the matter, girls?” I said, turning my back to Kate so she’d know I wasn’t implicating her. “Nat got your tongue?”

Steph Merritt, your basic sophomore born-again blonde, looked at her feet and stammered. “We were just talking about how much we love your Palmetto Court posters, Nat.”

“Were you?” I asked.

Steph’s button nose flared in alarm. Normally, I respected a little white lie — a girl had to do what a girl had to do — but today Steph’s faux flattery was as low rate as her dye job. Before I made my presence known, these girls had been totally consumed by their ratty hair and acne. If the guys they were banging had mentioned anything about how they were casting their votes, the Bambies were probably too stupid to remember. Yes, they were sleeping with the enemy, but at their age, one senior football player just blended right into the next.