In the cafeteria, a group of wealthy boys bullied me and called me “trash kid.” When the ringleader lifted his foot and kicked me, I didn’t cry. I just stood up straight, and what I said next made him realize he had just picked a fight with the wrong person.
Seventeen-year-old Amelia, the new, invisible transfer student, balanced her free-lunch tray and scanned the loud, chaotic, and intimidatingly crowded room of Westhill High.
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