As Bets passed through the crowd of students her thoughts continued to wonder at the cheerleader's point, and she felt bad.
...Bets knew herself, that she and her friends weren't the smartest girls around, except for possibly Diane, and even the latter was more common sense - smart than proper smart-smart. But while that was the case with the brains, Bets knew that she and her friends were some of the best-looking girls in their school; in fact, the only reason why they hadn't made the team in the first place was because they weren't strong enough, but then again since when did a girl needed to be strong-strong rather than just regular strong? In fact, the original cheerleaders.
Suddenly, Bets stopped, as she suddenly remembered that the try-outs for the next year's team positions were now open. There were a few senior students among the cheerleaders who'd be graduating this year, providing a few new spots for girls like Bets. In fact, Bets felt reasonably sure, Jenny and Christen were among those that were graduating this year! Excellent!..
Almost smiling and quite forgetting to watch where she was going, Bets turned somewhat sharper and faster than she intended. Naturally, she ran into somebody. Hard. Hard enough to fall on her ass.
"Watch where you're going, breadstick!"
Bets gulped, as she realized that she had ran into the school's resident punk population. Unlike the school Goths (two or three girls and about a couple of guys), the school punks were a loud, tough bunch of people, and they really hated when somebody got into their personal space - just like Bets did right now.
"Uh, hello?" Bets said meekly, looking straight up, and really not liking what she was seeing. Two of the punk girls were glaring right down at her - one dyed-red head that Bets couldn't determine whether a guy or a girl, the other probably a girl but really thin - not anorexic-thin but going for that skeleton look all the same.
"Well, what's the matter, breadstick? Lost your tongue?" the skeleton-punk said, nastily.
Bets hurriedly got up to walk quickly away, but since today's unfortunate event with her mom she wasn't quite herself lately; being called a member of a fat brigade didn't do any wonders of returning to routine behavior either. "Why are you called me breadstick?" she asked, almost despite herself.
"'Cause you're soft and pale like a loaf of French bread!"
Bets blinked. This was one of the times when she regretted not being Diane: Diane would know whether this was an insult or not. Bets being Bets, however, she opted to walk-in.
"That's an insult, right?" she asked.
"No duh!" and the punks laughed meanly.
Bets blushed, humiliated and quickly walked away, the cheerleader try-outs forgotten for now. Was everybody on her case today? "At least I and my friends aren't called the fat brigade!" she snapped under her breath, echoing the cheerleaders' cruel words from her ride to school. "Have a nice day, chubbies," she finished (quietly) not noticing how her eyes again glowed with some cold, yellowish-white light.
But this time, for a few moments, the light lingered.