You are Wonder Girl. You own these halls. You trip to class every day in glass slippers and a neon halo. You give the boys heart attacks and stiff pants—because all your arrows hit the bullseye. Now you've got your pick. See the Blue Jeans Baby at 16. You dreamed High School dreams and they all came true.

But time is a monster, baby. Time is a wheel that rolls and rolls.

There's no turning back for you, girl. The world lies quivering in your hands but all you see is a black tunnel leading down to endless soap opera days squeezing you flat and dead. What happened at the doctor's yesterday? You can't even tell your best friend. Your heart beats with spiky, jagged beats, and a trickle of sweat rolls down your pale arm like liquid fear, but you were so cool before in all the yesterdays that won't ever come again.

Your frantic eye captures orange sun and blue sky freedom through a dusty window in the gym at 10 o'clock, where you jump the Jumping Jacks you hate and will always hate. You have to tell him soon girl, soon, but what will he do? Maybe just look at you with steel eyes, no pity or mercy, and you will not know him then. He could just fly away. He has a car and it would be so easy.

But you have no escape plan so you just keep jumping. The walls are too high and curve in on you—you look a little crazy just now but so pretty and hurt like a butterfly with broken wings.