What did it matter? All the boys were either dumb, redneck boys whose idea of a good time involved beer and shotguns, or they were the kind of boys who drove muscle cars and dated cheerleaders from the town side of Otterville. She wasn't interested in any of them, so what did she care if they made fun of her for wearing overalls and muck boots to school? She didn't care. Not until they taped a sign to her back that said “Cunning Linguist”—she’d had to look that up online in the urban dictionary—because it just wasn't true. She liked boys—she just didn't like any of those silly, little boys. Still, they persisted. She went to retrieve an assignment from her backpack for a teacher and pulled out panties someone had stuffed inside like scarves from a magician's canister. Then just today they somehow got into her locker—she suspected her locker partner, a chubby, unpopular girl who just might go along with a popular kids' prank just to be liked—and filled it with what had to be at least fifty dildos of all shapes and sizes.
