I walked into the class and looked around for an empty seat. I saw a table with only one person there: Sheila Armstrong. I had classes with her in the eighth grade; stereotypical popular girl: tight fitting, trendy clothes, bold highlights in her dark brown hair, massive amounts of eye make-up, and a personality that would make rotten cheese look friendly. I looked around the rest of the room in desperation but saw no other seats. I walked up to her table and asked in a friendly voice,

"Hey, is anybody sitting here?" She looked up from her pink fingernails and gave me a glare that screamed 'What do you think fatty?' She didn't answer me. "Can I sit there?"

"Umm, no." She said strongly then looked down at her nails. She then pointed to the very back where the "weird" kids sat. "There's a spot back there." I looked at her in disbelief; I couldn't believe or understand how someone could be so nasty. I challenged her,

"It doesn't look like anybody's sitting there and I can't really see in the back; can I please…" I stopped talking. Sheila Armstrong looked at me with a look so condescending that you would have thought that she was beyond disgusted by my presence. "Well, thanks…" I finished quietly and walked to the table in the back where a special education student sat with a teacher. As I walked I heard the door to the classroom open and three or four other kids came in. I heard them greet Sheila and laugh. When I sat down I heard them saying,

"Brent broke up with Kelly! Did you hear? She totally dumped him after he caught her cheating with some guy!"

"Kelly is such a skank. I totally knew that would happen."

"Poor Brent, I bet he's heart broken."

"He is such a sweet heart! How could anybody do that to him?"

"I wonder what happened to his sister…"

"What do you mean?"

"How could someone so annoying be related to such an awesome guy?"

"I don't know, maybe their genetics are all weird or something…"

"Is she adopted?"

I wanted to cry my eyes out, right there at that table. I had already gone through hell and back with the counselors to get this period of ceramics but if I was going to have to deal with their petty, ignorant crap everyday of this semester then it wasn't worth it. I walked outthe back doorof the classroom and wentto the counseling office. I could feel my eyes stinging asthey welled upwith tears; I was going to drop that damned art class, I didn't need it. My schedule was so filled up with honors courses that having only six classes instead of seven would help a lot with managing my time.

I finally left the attendance office after explaining what happened to Mrs. Fernandez; I dropped the class and now it was the end of the day. How nice, now that I had no last period I could go home early...but not today. Today I had to stay after school for the first Spanish and drama club meeting of the year. If I was lucky I would get home around nine and I wasn't too happy about having to walk home. I climbed the stairs and retreated into the library. After collapsing on a squashy couch by the row of computers I covered my eyes with my hand.

"Liz!" someone whispered. I looked and saw Mike sitting at a near by computer; I sighed in relief as he asked, "What's the matter with you? Was your day worse than mine?"

"Probably not." I whispered back. "I'm tired. What happened to you?" Mike tapped a few keys on the keyboard, double clicked his mouse, then came and sat next to me.

"Dylan text my cell today during third. It said: 'We need to talk. Call me ASAP.' So I text him back saying okay and that I'd call him during lunch. So I call him during lunch and he says that he wants to break up! You know why?"

"I bet you're going to tell me." I replied.

"He said I was too feminine, that it was way too easy to see that I was a fag!" I cringed a little; I didn't like the word "fag". "That's why he stopped doing things with me in public! He thought it was too obvious that we were a gay couple! I was making him uncomfortable!"

"Oh my God…" I whispered in disbelief.

"I KNOW!" He said in his normal voice. The librarian looked over and shushed us. I rolled my eyes as Mike waved and whispered loudly, "Sorry!" he turned back to me and continued, "I think that it's retarded and totally immature of him."

"I do too." I agreed, "I mean, how old is he, 17? 18? And he's acting like he's still closeted or something!"

"I know…" He agreed.

"You shouldn't even give him a second thought Mike. If he isn't comfortable with…with himself then he's not mature enough for a relationship: straight OR gay…"

"Exactly." He said in his normal voice as he collapsed against the back of the couch. Angrier shushing from the librarian, "SORRY! Sorry!" Mike feigned his apology and rolled his eyes. He looked back to me then said, "Who the hell does that fag think he is? Honestly…" I gazed around the library as Mike spoke. "I know you're right, Liz, totally and completely; he isn't worth my time…but that's not going to help me get over him any faster."

"It never does." I whispered back.

"Tell me about it." There was a longer moment of silence before Mike asked, "What happened to you?

"High school happened to me, stupid teen age girls happened to me."

"Oh honey…" Mike said, "I'm so sorry." Pause. "You haven't gone lesbian on me have you?" I laughed as I replied,

"No!"

"Good. Because the dyke look just wouldn't have worked for you." I laughed as Mike explained further, "You see, homosexuality is like cheap Prada…" I smiled and whispered,

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind next time I want to make out with a girl." Mike laughed and whispered,

"Good for you honey." After our giggles went away we were silent again. All I heard was the sounds of flipping pages and typing keys. The silence was broken when Mike asked,

"Am I really that feminine?"

"Yes."

"God dammit…" Mike said in his normal voice once more.

"Mr. Ward!" Said an angry librarian. "I have warned you twice and this is the third time I have had to remind you. Please be quiet!"

"You know what?" Mike replied in an even louder voice, stunning everyone. "There is a grand total of 6 people in this entire library. Yourself, myself, my friend here, those girls," he pointed to a nearby table where two girls sat watching, "and that guy." He indicated a boy who was staring at the computer screen. "Those girls are copying from the encyclopedia for their research paper and that guy is looking at porn while my friend is trying to console me because my retard boyfriend just broke up with me for no practical reason. Now," the boy was now staring in embarrassment and awe at Mike, as were the girls at the table and I. "compared to plagiarism and masturbation…" He looked to the boy and said, "I'd certainly hope you have more tact than that, but seeing that your fly is currently open…I guess you don't." the boy looked down and as he quickly zipped up his pants Mike continued, "speaking in my normal voice during such a meaningful conversation isn't such a crime…is it Mrs. Green?" Mrs. Green crossed her arms and replied slyly,

"Mr. Ward, taking into consideration all that you've said…your tone and your diction when addressing an adult leaves much to be desired. So when it comes to punishing you, compared to in school suspension, giving you a lunch detention isn't so bad…is it Mr. Ward?"