I was sitting in Nerd Corner, (also known as Stink Central) when a Lady in Waiting Left Heaven and began to make her way across the room. I didn’t notice. I didn’t notice much in those days. I was just beginning to perceive that the purpose of school was not to learn subjects, but to create “castes”.

Bernice was actually at my table when I saw her, and emitted the most significant words I would ever hear; “Janelle wants to see you.”

Even a Nerd like me knew Janelle was the School Goddess. Every class has a Queen, supported by one or two Ladies in Waiting. Every grade holds one of those queens as the Empress. And every school has a Goddess who is the ultimate arbiter on life.

The power of a Queen to send another girl into the bathroom crying her eyes out, or to have an erring Lady in Waiting dismissed so suicide seemed the best option, was absolute. Imagine the power of a Goddess!

Now, in front of the entire lunchroom, Bernice has arrived to tell me that the Goddess has summoned Me! I rose as if I’d been a surprise winner of an Oscar and made a stately progression to Heaven, telling every eye I met; “Janelle wants to see me.”

As I moved across the cavernous room, I noticed the stink ebbing. By the time I reached Janelle’s table near the open window, I could actually breathe.

There was Janelle, surrounded by the Empresses and Queens, each with her Ladies in Waiting. Every girl at that table had a fresh-from-the-pages-of-a-magazine appearance. Not a pimple on a face, not a mismatched outfit, even their earrings matched their clothing. I should have felt out of place wearing whatever was handy, but I didn’t. After all Janelle wanted to see me!

So here I am. And why didn’t Janelle stop talking to Barbara about how she intended to do her hair for Saturday? Feeling uncomfortable standing, I shoved in between Lisa and Ellen, which brought the table to a dead stop. All eyes were on me, including Janelle’s. Amid the gasps at my gaffe and chagrin at my chutzpa, I was not, however, bodily flung out of the cafeteria. Janelle, softening her glare to a mild gape said;

“I want the history homework.”

For a few seconds I thought she was asking me which pages she was to read, what questions she was to answer. But Michelle, a class queen, made it clear.

“Every day, put your homework in a magazine and give it to me and I’ll give it to Janelle.”

“No.” I said. When the eyes were on me: