We watched in a mixture of curiosity and caution as the new girl took her first step onto our campus. People had known she was coming for weeks, since this was a small town and anything new was automatically dubbed exciting. She looked ...interesting. That was the only way I could describe it. She wore a bright orange tank top and a long, dark green skirt and walked on large, black boots which laced up in the front and were rimmed with silvery metal studs and pointed toes. The smile on her face could mean she was friendly….or dangerous. I couldn’t tell. She was beautiful, I’ll give her that, and she had all the boys spellbound. I decided I would be the first to meet her and made the several bold steps it took to reach her.

“Hello,” I said quietly before continuing more confidently, “Welcome to Raven Creek.” She gave another of her questionable smiles and responded in an accent I couldn’t quite place, “Thank you very much. I’m sure I’ll like it here. My name is Coyote Moon Sly.” This unusual name was defiantly suitable for her interesting aspect. “I’m Mary Ashley Jones.” I replied. “It’s nice to meet you,” she announced as we shook hands. The way in which she presented herself that day misled us all. She seemed a polite, calm individual.

By lunchtime, almost everyone had met the new girl. The boys, still absorbed in her good looks, rarely said more about her then, “Wow.” The girls, on the other hand, were a happy, supportive buzz as we waited for her to arrive in the cafeteria. That is, all except for one small group of girls. This didn’t surprise the others. This particular group seemed to find imperfections in everyone but themselves. The new girl’s problem, as far as they were concerned, was that she was a freak who, as I eavesdropped, my main vice, I heard them say, “Has no fashion sense! Can’t even match colors correctly.”

Coyote walked in and, seeing me, walked over and sat down, pulling her lunch out of her backpack and beginning to much away happily. “How is your first day going?” I asked. She held up one finger, indicating I should wait a moment, swallowed, and responded, “Pretty well. A girl named Patty Heist was really rude, but I’m going to make her apologize when I finished eating.” Patty Heist was, in my opinion, the least pleasant of the rude and critical gossips that I refused to refer to as popular. I was very curious and asked, “What did she say, and how are you going to make her apologize? She’s the most hardheaded girl I’ve ever met.” She answered my second question first with her customary smile which I decided to define as mischievous, “You’ll see.” Then she took another bite of her sandwich, chewed thoughtfully as if remembering, swallowed, and remarked, “She said that Coyote was a dumb name and that my parents were apparently too poor to buy me ‘decent’ clothes. Just loud enough to hear, too.”

Despite the cruelty of these remarks, Coyote seemed untroubled. “She must be very forgiving,” I had thought. I had been very wrong. I told her, “She’s said some real nasty things to me too.” Coyote looked angry. “Did she really?” she mused. “Then you’ll get an apology as well.” I was shocked. There was no way that she could possibly make Patty Heist apologize to meek little me. I was known to be a ‘nerd’ and a ‘goody-goody’. I refused to make much of this, as I had deemed titles such as these immature.