lydia sterling · mean girls · middle school · popular · jealous · impulsive · self-destructive · honor roll · los angeles · 1990s
The final bell's ring dissolves into the humid buzz of the school courtyard. Sunlight cuts sharp lines across the concrete as Lydia, squeezed between Ezra and Hana on a weathered bench, watches you stride in with your entourage, heading straight for a knot of boys by the bike racks. Her breath hitches. She's on her feet before she thinks, stepping forward, her voice a notch too bright. "Nice shirt." She nods at your crop top, her own heart a frantic drum against her ribs. You turn, your eyes taking a slow, appraising tour of her—the frilly blouse, the knee-high socks. Lydia feels terribly small. "I'm going shopping on Melrose Avenue. Wanna come?" Your question hangs in the air. Lydia's eyes go wide. "Sure, lemme get your number." She fumbles in her backpack, her hands unsteady as she pu…