They all think I'm on drugs. They don't even know me. Insert pathetic teenage angst here.

My name is Dawn Schafer. I live in Stoneybrook Connecticut with my mother, stepfather, and stepsister.

Mary-Anne and I used to be best friends. Now we're sisters, with all the emotional distance and icy detachment only family is capable of.

I miss the BSC, and I think I'm the only one. I overheard Mary Anne telling Logan, second week of ninth grade, that the record book had always been a weight around her neck.

She never asked for help though. Never asked me, alternate Dawn, to take over for a while.

Now I'm every position. President, VP and Secretary Dawn. And treasurer. I forgot Stacey.

Not that I babysit- silly. Who wants the local drug fiend taking care of their children? Suddenly having a joint at a party once in a blue moon makes me a junkie. Being quiet, and tired, and alone are sins now, symptoms of my "problems."

But I do miss the BSC.

I still see the girls, everyday. We share some classes; I have the same lunch period as Kristy, Abby and Mary Anne. We nod at each other in passing, like acquaintances unsure of each other's names.

Kristy is a jock, and one of the popular kids. In high school, her determination and drive was channeled into sports. Everyone loves a tomboy. She and Abby are close, on all the same teams. Mary Anne tags along, when she's not sequestered with Logan. He plays basketball on the J.V team.

There was a time when I could join them at their table, put up with all the sports talk in exchange for some company. Not anymore. Healthy Living Kristy and her wheezing sidekick disapprove of drugs.

It makes me laugh sometimes. The bitter injustice is funny. I don't do drugs. No pills, no alcohol, no cigarettes. Only a token 'toke' now and then. Not enough to slide me into that fatal clique, the burnouts. It doesn't matter though. Only another year and I am out of here. I used to want to go back to California, but now that laidback Dad has transformed into married-and-strict Dad there doesn't seem much point.

That day in study hall I sit behind Stacey and study the back of her head.

I forgot Stacey. She's forgettable. She always has been, to me. She's the girl I always thought had the spot that I could have. I'm nice, I'm blonde, I like art even if I'm not artistic myself, and any self respecting thirteen year old could have done the maths required to be treasurer. 7 girls times 50c a week. Wow. Difficult. Definitely requires all of Stacey's maths genius.

I could have done that. Maybe if I'd had a real role, they wouldn't have forgot me. All the best friends went off together, leaving just me.

I know, I know, this is awful. I'm just whining, right? Well, No. I'm going to do something about it.

Just as soon as I get a clue.