Until now, she'd never thought of herself as pretty. After all, her parents had named her Agnes. Agnes. That was the name of some fat, frumpy girl. But she stood here at the mirror, the bell had long since rung and students had settled themselves in desks. The comb in her bag would have to do. Maybe something from the haze of hairspray left behind by the other girls would help set the ridiculously high bangs she had crafted for herself.

She threw the comb in her bag and headed out into the hall. It was empty as expected. Agnes had never been the kind of girl to be late to class before, but there was always a first time for everything.

She climbed the stairs and went straight for the door marked 208. She dropped her backpack on the ground by her desk and ignored the teacher's question about where she had been. When prompted to take her book out and turn to page 98, she sat there with her arms crossed.

She reached in her bag and pulled out the essay with an A on it from last week, crumpled it up and threw it at the teacher's feet. Yes, things were going to be different this semester.