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October 1, 2011
We're hanging out on the ledge outside homeroom, waiting for our teacher and her key. Long-legged gawky Wendy saunters over to the girls, in clogs and jeans with wide plaid cuffs and an armful of Bay City Rollers paraphernalia. She names the shaggy-haired band member who is "hers". Even though none of them really appeal to me, I claim Derek, because at 12 I'm partial to blonds and he bears a slight resemblance to Davy Jones. The boys smirk at our contrived allegiance to this new band being foisted upon us, and I desperately want to tell them I agree.