Excerpt:

Charlotte studied the girls out of the corner of her eye. The one on the swing wore her hair short, her skin tan like someone who spent most of the summer laying in the sun. Her dark skin came from a chaise lounge in her backyard, or maybe the beach. Or more likely, her own in ground pool. Pink lip gloss sparkling in the sun, pink nails and toes to match. She took in her clothes. Preppy but not over the top. White shorts, pink polo shirt, rider and all. She could see where the girl’s bra straps hugged her slight shoulders under the thin cotton of her shirt. Alpha girl for sure. Charlotte was suddenly conscious of her own bra-less condition, sweat dampened, wrinkled sundress, her frizzed out windblown hair.

“So,” said one of the coterie surrounding Alpha Girl, “what about Derek Stone? Is he not the cutest thing ever? I hope he asks me to go with him this year.” She tossed her head, brown French braids tickling the tops of her shoulder blades. Not as tan, freckles poking out from behind the straps of her yellow tank top. One of the other girls nudged her, “You wish. Maybe when you lose the metal mouth.” The other girls snickered a little at this. Charlotte had seen this drama play out everywhere she’d lived. Alpha girl surrounded by admirers, the insecure one, ever the blabber mouth, always setting herself up to be knocked down by the requisite mean girl. Said girl smiled, looked smugly around at her peers. A little chubbier than the rest, Charlotte could tell she fought hard for her place. Yellow Tank Top slumped a little, not so much the other girls could tell, but Charlotte could. She saw with some satisfaction that the mean girl had a face full of tiny red pimples, some she’d picked at and were bleeding. Charlotte had enough. She crossed her arms and approached the group. If she didn’t insinuate herself now, she didn’t know when another chance would arrive. It was always best to do this before the first day of school if possible. As she neared the girls, she thought about what her best role would be. With simpering insecure one and mean-girl taken that left her with moony artistic one who no one ever takes seriously, crack-up – similar in nature to mean girl, but all the put downs came out as jokes, silent but cool – but she didn’t know how she’d pull that off today or nerdy outsider always hanging on the fringes, a perpetually begrudged member of the group. A little pang of guilt gnawed at her gut, she wished she could ditch Kayla, it would be so much easier to figure this out if she by herself.

She was almost there, at the elbow of a girl in a hippie skirt, tie dye tank top and long swaying blond hair. Okay, she thought, moony artist is out. Then she stopped just outside their half circle and said, “Well, would Derek Stone want to go out with somebody who looks like they’ve got chicken pox? You got those bumps on your ass too?” Charlotte knew she was taking a gamble, this move might get her beat up, but it was better than playing the nerd. A hush landed over the girls, even Alpha Girl stopped moving the swing back and forth to look up at her, stunned and Charlotte was pleased to see, a little amused. Two of the girls parted to let Charlotte into the circle. She accepted the unspoken invitation just as the Heavy Mean Girl stepped up to cut her off. They faced each other toe to toe. “What did you say?” The Mean Girl trying to act tough, but that veneer was peeling and Charlotte could see her uncertainty in the way her eyes darted to the Alpha Girl for approval, then back again.

Charlotte looked right back into those burning mad eyes and said, “I think you heard me already.” She turned away from the angry fat girl, as if she mattered to her no more than an irritating buzzing fly, looked right at Alpha Girl and said, “So who is this Derek Stone anyway?” Alpha Girl got up, pushing the mean girl out of the way gently with a thin tanned arm. “Only the most popular, the most cute boy in sixth grade.” Her lip went up. Half sneer, half smile. “How come you don’t know about him? You must be new.” She looked Charlotte up and down, then flashed a genuine smile. “Lucky you’re not his type.” Charlotte thought about a come back for that one, worthy of the funny mean girl role she so wanted to fill. One did zing into her mind, but she banished it. No one was allowed to insult the Alpha Girl, not even as a joke. She just shrugged. Alpha Girl took a step back then said, “I’m Selby.” Fat Mean Girl slunk away, taking a seat on an empty swing, kicking her sneakered feet into the wood chips.

And just like that, she was in.