Unfortunately, coming from the opposite direction strode my other worst nightmare.

A gaggle of senior girls materialized like a firewall, blocking our path. There were four of them — all big hair, big boobs, big attitude. The leader crossed her arms over a thin, low-cut sweater, which emphasized her abundant chest, and nudged one of the other girls to speak.

A leggy blonde — more specifically, Stacy’s older sister — turned to Stacy. “Where do you think you’re off to?”

“Math,” Stacy said with a weary flip of her hair. She tossed a disgusted look in my direction. And, though she was failing algebra, she added, “Anything’s better than gym class with losers.”

The seniors cackled and broke the human wall open just wide enough to let Stacy pass through.

“Well?” another girl said, expecting me to defend myself.

I kept my mouth shut. There was no way to win this kind of battle. I could only wait it out.

Their leader finally stepped forward, shaking her head so the long ash-brown strands brushed her shoulders. Her squinty eyes glittered with general malevolence, her expression pure scorn.

“Ellie, Ellie, Ellie Barnett,” she said. “What exactly is your problem? How is it that you’re so competent with classroom shit, so very responsible in your stupid little academic life, but such a fuck-up in everything else?”

Jane chose this inopportune moment to chime in. This young woman hardly seems a paragon of virtue. What manner of conduct is this?

I clutched my algebra notebook and pencil a little tighter, but I didn’t answer either of their questions.

“You’re becoming quite a legend at school,” the leader said with her trademark mockery. She scanned me up and down, rolled her eyes and burst out laughing. “Just look at you! Scraggly hair. Dressed like a geek. No makeup. Digging yourself into a hole of permanent unpopularity. Sometimes I can’t stand to be in the same hallway with you. Make an attempt to get with it or I’ll make you sorry. You know I can.”