Meanwhile, in the girls’ locker room…

Jennifer stood with her friends, commanding attention with the news she just shared. The news that could hush even the largest gaggle of teenage girls, “I think I’m going to do it with him,”

“Seriously?” one of the many straight-haired, straight-toothed, long-legged girls asked, unable to close her mouth.

She nodded her head, in an action she believed to be both solemn and dramatic, “He’s definitely the person I need to lose it to,”

“His Converse stink, Fifi, and what if that acne is also on his back,” Alli, who fit the stereotype of the rest of the girls but refused… shooting sarcasm from the holster of her standard black clothing. She loved irking the ditzy girl with the much-destested, though fitting nickname.

“You’re just jealous… and it’s Jennfier, please,” she puffed out her chest.

The girls prepared for a standoff, secretly admiring Alli, whom they all assumed had already done the deed. They admired her ability to be both gorgeous and an outcast.