My future had arrived! For the first time in seven years, I was no longer the new girl.

Fashion Forward
“Hey, Lily! Over here!” Melissa Campbell’s high-pitched voice rang out across the front lawn of James Monroe Middle School. She was calling me.

“Hey, Missy! Hi, girls,” I responded, almost breathless after practically racing over to the designated meeting spot of the three most popular girls in school.

When I arrived at Monroe last year, I spent a lot of time memorizing the many rules of The New Girl’s Manual, and now the results paid off.

“You look so cute!” gushed Melissa, signaling me to twirl as I stood in front of her two best friends, Jackie and Vanessa. “Are those the new jeans we bought together? Oh, is that T-shirt new? Great look on you. So cute.”

Melissa constantly checked what everyone was wearing.

“Thanks,” I said, beaming from the compliments.

Rule No. 12: Fashion is key to your success.

A Classy Schedule
“Hey, did you get your schedule?” she asked, as she grabbed it from my hand to see if I selected the “right” classes. She made a face when she got to my third period choice.

“My mom made me take Spanish again,” I explained, lowering my head.

“That’s too bad. Everyone is in choir third period, and we all swore we’d never take band again, either, “ Melissa said.

“That Mr. Newcastle wants too many hours out of us,” Vanessa whined.

“You didn’t take band again, did you?” Jackie added, chomping on her gum.

I grew red in the face. I was playing the clarinet in the honors band.

Rule No. 43: Always take the courses your friends take.

Yes!
“Do you want to head over to Sherman’s class and get seats together?” I asked, changing subjects fast.

In Mr. Sherman’s science class, we settled into our seats, and almost immediately, the girls called for a meeting. Some important factors were decided by the group: no one should wear her hair like Hannah Baird; we’d only eat lunch on the benches (the cafeteria was for losers); Mr. Sherman had bad breath, and science was a drag.

I thought Hannah’s hair was OK. I’d have to go without eating today. (I’d planned to buy my lunch in the cafeteria). I didn’t know about Mr. Sherman’s breath, but I secretly looked forward to science. I’d won first prize in the science fairs at three of my other schools.

The thoughts rambled in my head, but from my lips came the words, “Yeah, you’re right.”

Rule No. 6: Always agree. Always.

The New Girl
“Class, please settle down and let me take roll.” Mr. Sherman’s deep voice brought me back to reality, and I turned to face the front. “Campbell, Desmond, Farley . . .” he droned.

Mr. Sherman had barely made it through half the alphabet when a raven-haired girl appeared in the doorway. Slowly, she made her way to the teacher’s desk and scanned the room with her big, chocolate- brown eyes.

“Take a seat, Miss Ramirez,” Mr. Sherman said.

He directed her to a chair — third row, fifth seat, right next to me. Mr. Sherman barely looked up from his Coke-bottle glasses, but all eyes were on Ana Victoria Ramirez, the new girl.

“Hola,” she said, as she slid into her empty seat. Hola? Gasp! A new girl, and she didn’t speak English! Where was this in the manual?

“Hola,” I replied, mustering up what little I remembered from last year’s Spanish class. I smiled at her as she sat down and folded her delicate hands on the desktop.

“Gracias,” she whispered, as she let out a sigh of relief.

That’s when I felt it. Ice-cold, bone-chilling, heart- stopping stares coming from every direction and descending upon me like an arctic blast. With those brief words and the simple gesture of a smile, I’d sealed my fate with all three of the “in” girls in the room.

I wasn’t prepared for this moment. After all, I’d never been anything but the new girl myself. How was I to know that I’d broken the first rule of The New Girl’s Manual?

Rule No. 1: All new girls shall be ignored until spoken to first.

A New Set of Rules
My ears burned, and my face grew red. I kept my head down but heard the whispers that were exchanged back and forth across the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please look at the board for a moment.” Mr. Sherman’s directions brought the class back to work.

I knew things would be different by the end of class. I wouldn’t be asked to eat lunch under the trees or shop for jeans on the weekend. No one would care if I took Spanish or band. But I wouldn’t be nervous about saying hello to strangers, scared to speak my mind or embarrassed to enter the science fair. And now that I was no longer the new girl, I knew I had a job to do.

Step one? Easy. Throw out the useless The New Girl’s Manual. This was uncharted territory, and it needed a new set of rules.

I opened my notebook and began to write.

Rule No. 1: Smile.