"AHHHHHHHH!"

"OMIGOSH SO CUUUUTE!"

Good grief.

Clenching my jaw, I forced myself to walk on as the fangirl squeals tore through the hallway. Korean K-Pop fangirl Tina Lee was seated cross-legged on the floor, her friends behind her and a sticker-covered laptop in front of them, blaring music from what was obviously their favourite boy band. With the volume of banshee-like screeches overpowering that of the computer, the song lyrics had become completely incoherent - not that I knew Korean anyway.

Who the boys were, I didn't know and didn't care. All I had to do was to never say anything anti-K-Pop, ever, else I would be dragged off by the K-Pop Kids (the name I had given to Tina's clique) and burned at the stake - a situation which would be very undesirable for someone like myself, whose friend count was already a zero. If it went backwards, it meant that the neutrals were becoming enemies. Having enemies was a big no-no if you had no clique to back you up.

Cliques, friend groups, girl squads - whatever you called it, it was one of the main components of a decent school life as a student. They helped you to safeguard a place in the 'socially acceptable' spectrum, promised you a non-humiliating spot at a school lunch table, guaranteed group mates in projects and someone to walk with and sit with for classes and assembly sessions. As long as you were an all-around loyal, helpful member of your clique who didn't drag the others down, you were settled with a decent social status locked down - so long as you remained status quo. Piss off the leader or their right-hand ladies, or violate the unspoken understanding between the members - and boom, you were out of there, bound to become a drifter unless some clique was willing to take you on, or worse a loner.

Expulsion happened quickly and quietly, appearing as if the friendship had just drifted apart when things didn't work out - but of course, things were never that simple. Where expulsions happened, you could bet your buttons there was plenty of beef and tea involved.

I knew it all well - after committing such crimes I had become clear of the unspoken, unlabelled honour code of cliques amongst teenage girls, and the veiled, hidden hierarchies and inner politics of the my second-year cohort - but there was just one problem. The chinese saying went, 知錯能改 (learn from your mistakes) - I had accomplished the '知錯 (know your mistakes)' portion, but the '能改 (change your ways)' part hadn't really been fixed yet.

I had fallen from grace in the past, but instead of bouncing back like one would expect, I never recovered. I never found another clique to join, or a table I was able to stay at for one lunch break without being an awkward liability who was only there on account of the last sliver of mercy. I never found someone who I could connect with by 'being myself' and all that jazz.

In the end, I succumbed to the efforts to bring me down - and I withdrew into the shadows of social isolation and misery.

I should've seen it coming, really. All the warning signs were there, a bright screaming neon before my eyes - but I brushed off my sixth senses and let the dominoes crush my reputation to bits. I should've seen that though all girls were equal, some were much more equal than others - but my foolish, naive self ignored the obvious hierarchy and inadvertently painted a target on my back for the most influential clique to shoot at.

And boy, did they hit bullseye.

The greetings of 'Hey guys!' and 'Morning!' reached my ears from the other end of the hallway, automatically bringing back the dread and angst to the forefront of my mind. I didn't even need to turn and gawk - everyone knew who they were, after all. The Populars, as I had decided to name them, were making their way down towards their lockers, all diamond bright smiles and glowing pride on their blemishless skin with Natalie Kingsley, the undisputed, unlabelled leader of the clique right at the front.

Everyone loved them.

But as usual, I was the odd one out; that weirdo who didn't fit in, or have a similar view in the matter. I despised them, all of them - but Natalie Kingsley, the leader of the Populars and the cohort's queen bee was who I particularly loathed with every bone in my body.

For it all started with Natalie Kingsley - the fakest, evilest fudging birch of them all.