“Bad Wednesday,” Fisher said after a moment. She met the gazes of the few stragglers until they do faded away, the laws of teenage disinterest coming into place. There would be rumors now - well, more rumors - but she had known that even before she went after Dean.
“You look like my aunt Eliza when you stand like that,” she said after a moment. “You have the same hips, I think. Tell Hartley I started it if he asks. When he asks.” He would. St. Margaret’s had an impressively low tolerance for physical confrontation in the halls.
A sudden pall of disinterest seemed to settle over the girl. “Do we have swimming practice today? I forget.”