Her feet were placed with such confidence that her legs held their own sort of power. Her posture was so perfected and her movements suave – one arm held her books to her side, but everyone could see that she was unstoppable. Her eyes said that most of all, seeing right through others that stood aside. Her classmates watched her pass with awe, staring and cherishing her popularity whenever she did just about anything. Bette Porter was a force to be reckoned with.

Often, it appeared she was walking in slow motion with the attention she would attract with her presence. Both girls and boys were taken with her, even knowing her sexual preference. She was undeniably the most popular student in the school, and she was a senior, which made everyone feel all the more inferior.

Others just watched as she walked past, holding their own opinions and gossip about Bette and who she was. Everyone seemed to know.

She finally stopped when a familiar face caught her eye. It was Jenny – the girl she’d been teasing all through high school. The girl was far from an easy target, but Bette constantly picked on her. Perhaps it was because of the shorter girl’s defiance, and the fact that it felt like a challenge. And Bette Porter liked things to come easy.

“Looking good,” she teased, staring at the strange girl.

“Is that a compliment?” Jenny asked, turning from her locker to stare at the voice she had become accustomed to. “Because I don’t need it.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure you have plenty of suitors lining up.”

“What do you want?” Jenny sighed, turning to show Bette the usual design of make up around her eyes – her unusual appearance.

“Why do you insist on looking like that?”

“Because it feels right. You know … not everything has to be beautiful.”

“Well there has to be ugly to contrast the beautiful, doesn’t there?”

Jenny rolled her eyes and stepped around Bette in her strange attire and monstrous high heels. She liked to shock with her looks, but Bette just laughed at her and turned back to two girls at her side in full support. Others often liked to think of themselves as her accomplices. “So … there’s a school dance.”