The girl in the seat across from mine stares me down, but I make sure to keep my temper in check. Punching some waspy volunteer on my first day isn’t going to help my formerly squeaky-clean record. Okay, it wasn’t like my record was really all that clean: I just never got caught. Until a couple months ago. I shut my eyes while the girl fake-whispers to her friends, all of them giggling and shooting glances. One of them is wearing a Ralph Lauren Polo, bright red. The collar looks pressed. Everyone on this shuttle looks like they have butlers and chambermaids to dress them, and I’m stuck in this wrinkled neon yellow T-shirt that reads, “HI, I’M NEW!” Literally—it’s emblazoned across my tits. “Stereo system,” one of the girls hisses. “No, an iPad.”
