“I’ll give it to Janelle.”

I could see Janelle’s brain working. She probably had an average I.Q., which dwarfed the double digits that gave her homage. Her choice was either a) let the school see me speak to her every day or b) fail history. It took her a bit of time to decide that she could somehow weasel out of the first, but without me, never escape the second.

“Okay,” Janelle said, then turned to Bernice, “walk her back to her seat and work out the details.”

I nodded and rose. No one but those at the table knew of what we spoke, so I could spin it anyway I wished. Bernice gave me a magazine; one of those hair style rags I wouldn’t use to wipe my shoes.

For the rest of the day kids who wouldn’t look at me were now being so friendly. Inviting me to visit them, wanting to know my opinions on which singer was the best, what was my favorite song and other such facts vital to the rotation of the Earth.

That afternoon I did two copies of my homework. I put one in the magazine and the next day, actually taking a bit of time with my wardrobe, arrived at the “meeting point” where I would encounter Janelle. She wasn’t there. Michelle pulled the magazine out of my hand. Well, this wasn’t the agreement.

I didn’t do homework for Janelle the next day, nor go to the meeting point. Ellen accosted me in homeroom and I announced; “My agreement was with Janelle alone.”

Everyone heard that, so whatever they might have thought, the words “agreement” and “Janelle” raised my status even higher.

During lunch I had to pass my homework to Janelle to be copied. This allowed me to sit at the table in Heaven pretending to talk to people who thought I was potting soil.

For the next three weeks I did Janelle’s homework. Being seen with Janelle now made me “cool”. I no longer was treated as a “reject”, my opinions were given weight.
For three weeks I dressed “cool”, I did my hair, wore make up and could chat foolishness with the best of them.

As even cool girls didn’t know that as far as Janelle was concerned I was a wart, they shared secret information with me; Janelle’s Party.

Every December, a week before Christmas break, Janelle threw the Party of the Season. The Guest List was carefully crafted to not invite those most likely to be hurt by snubbing. Unlike those who would wait until the day break began, Janelle wanted a Morbid Monday where all those who were not invited could be scorned.

Charmaine, whose brother was the best looking boy at the school, had always been invited to Janelle’s parties. She was not part of the clique, although she had a season ticket. We got along well because she had slight nerd pretensions. In her innocence, she asked me what I was wearing to Janelle’s Party.