I plunged down the stairs into the murky cloud of hairspray, cologne, and hormones. Numerous exclamations of varying levels of vulgarity flew in every direction. Strategically I slipped this way and that through what seemed like a solid mass of Abercrombie, Kate Spade, and the occasional History textbook. Keeping my eyes glued to the Converse-covered floor, I concentrated on my final destination.
As soon as I made it across the main hallway, the crowd thinned out and I advanced towards the cafeteria. Just ahead, a tall, lanky girl rounded a corner. She wore a simple white shirt with no designer label. Large, round glasses, not heavy eyeliner framed her eyes. In her hand she carried not Louis Vuitton, nor Gucci, nor Prada, nor even Nine West, but a flute case.
She was not your average boy-crazy lipgloss aficionado of a teenage girl, and at our school that was not acceptable by any means. Needless to say she had few friends. To befriend her was to give up all hope of ever having even a sliver of social status, to rebel against normality.
Until that day, I had carefully balanced myself on the boundary of popularity, the no-man's land of this queer war between her and the rest of the ninth grade. It shocked me sometimes how cruel they were. I always tried to be nice to her, but not nice enough to reach any level of commitment, not nice enough to be socially associated in any way.
Elizabeth ran awkwardly up to meet me. "Are we still on for Saturday night?" she asked. Her eyes were wide with excitement, like a puppy ready for a walk.
I was about to answer when we were ambushed by the opposing forces. It was like being enclosed in the pages of the latest issue of CosmoGirl. Their leader gave me a critical look, and I knew she was giving me the once- over. Evidently she approved. "Listen, a bunch of us are getting together over at Rachel's house Saturday night. You in?"
I hesitated. On one hand, an opportunity, my ticket to the in-crowd; on the other, loyalty, friendship, common courtesy. "Well, actually."
"Actually what?" Her look of social superiority changed instantly to one of downright criticism.
"N-nothing, never mind. Yeah, okay, I'll be there."