The West Hollywood High School cafeteria is loud and bustling as it always is during the normal lunch hour. Students are taking the time to eat as well as gossip and vent while using their voices without volume control. The food area consists of a long metal serving table where students shuffle forward hesitantly with sour looks on their faces as the lunch crew plop the mystery food of the day on their plates. Fortunately for the less bold, there are several easily identified items, such as fruit plates, salads and the ever-favorite Jell-O cups. The area is separated by blue velvet rope dividers flanked by two parent volunteers who continuously leave their post to play mediator to the rambunctious students. They eye the clock anxiously, looking forward to the end of their shifts with bated breath.

The eating area is made up of many rows of rectangular tables separated by imaginary borders based on rank and genre. The top, and most coveted row, is home to the football players. Their stone faces, crew cuts and bulging muscles make it absolutely clear where they belong. They sit drinking multiple cartons of milk while discussing game-day tactics and beer-pong strategies. They squash the empty cartons against their thick foreheads before tossing them down the ranks, earning the giggles and admiration from the cheerleading squad.

The skinny little beauties share the top spot with the obnoxious athletes. Some sit on their boyfriend’s lap while the rest gather at the end of the table and gossip about the latest teen fashion and who’s sleeping with whom. They pretend to ignore the sappy stares from the lesser ranks and sneak quick glances and coy smiles just to tease them.

Next are the ‘other’ jocks. They are the basketball players, soccer stars and speed demons, those who do more than grunt. They usually sit on top of the tables passing the soccer ball between them with their heads or spinning basketballs on their fingers. They stuff their faces with carbs and protein bars before washing it all down with Gatorade.

The Emu’s are next in line. Their tortured souls are not too concerned about the close proximity to the violent inclinations of the elite athletes. Next are the scene kids that are not quite emu, the heavy metal boys who like to beat up the scene kids. And the rest of the student body, the math geeks, the bookworms and the cyber nerds, those who like to sit as far away from everyone else as possible.