Free Guilt by Leen Elle

expectation. They were bursting at the seams to grow up and make a difference. And they were oblivious of the likelihood of their own worldly insignificance.
    Then, there was the nerd classification. The well-off nerds were labeled as geeks, while the poor nerds were typically regarded as rejects. Some marched in the school band, sang in the chorus or acted in the drama club, others steered clear of extra-curricular activities all together.
    Most of them distanced themselves from the other main student classifications, either out of intimidation or aversion. Occasionally, though, a member of this group realized that they were classified beyond their control, and they'd try to breakout. They might try out for cheerleading or run for student council. Sometimes it worked, and the student changed his or her image, gaining some friends and losing others. Sometimes their attempts backfired, burning and scarring them into remaining in their determined cast system.
    The population of Goths was particularly high, but harder to define. The term 'Goth' was a loose label for a broad subculture. Black clothes and pale skin, dark hair and ashen expressions abounded; but were they a fashion statement or a lifestyle choice? Were they attracted to the dismal? Or were they bleak romantics?
    More and more divisions and subdivisions could be identified and defined the closer this isolated conglomerate of youth was studied. There were gamers and bookworms, the overwhelmed and the underwhelmed, the complacent and the outlandish. The dissection and categorization got so detailed and minute that it became difficult to really designate any individuals to one true set.
    But Claire tried every day.
    One particular subject held her attention on an afternoon in late November when a cold hard rain blurred the outside landscape through the windows. A rather pretty looking reject girl in a faded sweatshirt and worn jeans sat beside a friend of similar appearance, concentrating on her fish sticks, while a sophomore boy (a jock that Claire happened not to be too fond of, herself) flicked wads of straw paper into her hair.
    Claire could tell that the girl knew what was going on, but the poor thing tried to ignore it. Rather than start a confrontation, she hoped that the boy would stop after he didn't get a reaction from her. He and his equally cruel friend continued to snicker as they flicked the paper wads into her mousy curls, and they cracked up at the notion that the girl had no idea about the prank they were pulling on her. Claire felt indignant about the disrespect, but what could she do? It wasn't exactly her dilemma to resolve.
    "Hey," a voice came from behind her. Claire jumped as Corry took the chair to her left. "Oops, startled you. Sorry."
    "That's alright. I just don't . . . umm. . ." Change the subject. "What are you doing here? I didn't know you had lunch at this time."
    "Ah, I don't." He broke into a guilty grin. "I have study hall in Ms. Hollisburg's room; but she's too busy planning her wedding to take attendance."
    Claire didn't have any classes with Ms. Hollisburg, but had heard the rumors about her flighty state of matrimonial bliss. The young teacher was too preoccupied with practicing her impending new signature to conduct a class – or even preside over a study hall, apparently.
    "Yeah, the other day she actually asked us our opinions on two different shades of purple for her place settings. Frankly, they were both ugly." He smiled, but his eyes didn't appear to reflect the expression on his lips.
    Claire asked him what made him decide to skip something as easy as a study hall. He told her that he couldn't stand the long silence of the class period any more, with nothing but calculus problems to solve. There was no way to get out of the building doors unseen, so he decided to hide out in the open, in the lunch room.
    "Well, I have to say, this is quite a change for me. I don't usually keep company at lunch. But for you, I'll make an