"Felicia?" I called, rapping softly on the door. I peeked under the stall door and saw a pair of feet in strappy yellow sandals. For her, school had been nothing but a constant parade of stolen lunch money and nasty remarks. Felicia, on the other hand, was the class punching bag. And while I may have been a weirdo, people weren't mean to me they mostly just ignored me. There was a girl just like her at every school I'd ever been to (nineteen and counting). Besides, I'd developed a soft spot for Felicia. I'd left her alone before, figuring that it was every girl's right to cry in a public bathroom from time to time.īut tonight was prom night, and there was something really sad about sobbing in formal wear. She had a really distinctive sob, high and breathy like a little kid's, even though Felicia was eighteen, two years older than me.
I knew it was her because in the three months I'd been going to Green Mountain High, I'd already seen Felicia crying in the bathroom twice. Felicia Miller was crying in the bathroom.
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