Free Chose the Wrong Guy, Gave Him the Wrong Finger by Beth Harbison

allowed for ugly parent-chosen clothes and cardigan sweaters, at least at first.
    But in high school, she had to get it right and she was already afraid she had it wrong. Was her Blink-182 T-shirt all wrong for this crowd? Were her faded Levi’s from Gap uncool? She should have gotten new shoes, because she’d had these running shoes for so long they were more like slippers now.
    “Quinn!”
    Oh, thank god! Someone she knew! She turned to see her friend Jackie coming toward her, all tan and leggy and Jennifer-Aniston-y in cutoff shorts, slip-ons, and a plain white T-shirt. That had been a good choice. Who could criticize plain white?
    “Hey,” Quinn said, putting on a smile even though she suddenly felt like crying. This was too much. She was overwhelmed. There were going to be more people she didn’t know here than she did, and she wasn’t very good at being outgoing.
    “Are you just so psyched ?”
    Quinn grimaced. “I’m nervous.”
    “Oh, please. Why? Do you know how many new hotties we’re going to meet? You know you haven’t had a boyfriend until you’ve had your first high school boyfriend.”
    Easy for her to say. She’d had, like, four boyfriends in middle school.
    “I haven’t had a boyfriend at all.”
    “Oh, that’s right.” Jackie shrugged. “So you’re going to have your first boyfriend. Come on, don’t stand out here like a freak, let’s go in.” She tugged on Quinn’s arm.
    “What’s your locker number?” Quinn asked.
    “Um…” Jackie paused to open her purse and took out a piece of paper. “Eight-fifty. What about yours?”
    “Eight twenty-nine. Hopefully they’re near each other.”
    “God, I can’t believe how scared you are! This is awesome . We’re in high school ! Stop being such a wimp!”
    They followed the signs on the wall to the eight hundred corridor and, fortunately for Quinn, their lockers were near each other. Opposite sides of the hall, and maybe six yards apart, but that was better than being on totally different floors.
    Quinn went to her assigned locker and used the combination she’d memorized, though she noticed everyone else had brought their orientation papers and were referring to them. Apparently she was the only one who had been so nervous about today that she had committed every single thing they’d sent to memory. She knew where each and every classroom was, on A days and B days (today was B, weirdly), and she knew every teacher’s name. She’d even looked up the lunch menu in advance so she knew what she’d pick and exactly how much it would cost.
    She put all her books but math in the locker, then took the Disney World magnet from her purse that she’d brought to stick to the door. It was Woody and Buzz from Toy Story. When she’d chosen it, it had felt familiar and comforting, it had made her smile, but now it just looked babyish. She considered it for a moment, then decided she just wasn’t cool enough to pull off the retro act, so she pulled it off and was about to put it in her purse when the girl at the locker next to her said, “Oh, I love Buzz!”
    “I’m sorry?” Quinn asked, not quite connecting the obvious dots. Her first thought was that maybe drugs were as rampant here as her mother had warned.
    The girl gestured at the magnet. “Buzz Lightyear. That was my favorite movie when I was a kid.”
    “Oh.” Quinn smiled. “Mine too.” Then she had the vague thought that maybe the girl was baiting her, setting her up for some sort of Mean Girl prank.
    But that would be just so lame as far as pranks went.
    “I’m Rami, by the way.” The girl smiled and pushed her hand through her thick red hair, though it fell right back in front of her face. “What’s your name?”
    “Quinn Barton.” Whole name. She might as well have extended a stiff arm and asked, How do you do? Would you like some crumpets and tea?
    Rami nodded like that was something to understand and she understood it. “Looks like we’re locker roomies this