Cynthia Dion:
"Mara!" I quickened my pace to catch up with her, but she was darting away from me as if I'd committed a crime. It made no sense.
As I hurried after her, lost in my thoughts, I failed to notice someone coming from the opposite direction. I collided with none other than Rosalie.
"My bad!" I winced, nursing my arm that had been scratched by the keychain dangling from her purse.
"Of course it's you," Rosalie muttered, her grip on the plastic coffee cup tightening. Looking at her, a pang of envy hit me. She had everything one could wish for: loving parents, a privileged life, and numerous friends. And she was drop-dead gorgeous with her brown eyes, blonde hair, and a height of 5 feet 8 inches.
As a cheerleader and one of the school's popular girls, she practically set trends
