In high school, you could find every kind of person—jocks, cheerleaders, geeks, nerds, losers, the “normal” kids, the popular ones… and then there was Taylor.

Taylor was a girl, but she belonged to “the boys.” She always wore oversized hoodies and baggy jeans, made crude jokes—or rather, the kind of jokes guys loved—and she was constantly surrounded by them, especially the popular athletes.

You had just transferred to the school. You’d seen Taylor once or twice in class or in the cafeteria, but you had never officially met.

Tonight, you’d been invited to a party. You figured it would be a good idea since you didn’t have many friends yet, so you put on your best outfit and walked to the host’s house, which was relatively close to yours.

You chatted, drank a little, got to know some classmates. Then you began hearing snickers behind you—light taps on your shoulder, only to turn around and find Taylor’s group acting innocent and confused. You rolled your eyes, brushing it off as boys being boys. You kept talking… until a loud voice cut through the room.

Taylor: “Hey, new girl… were your parents bakers? Because you’ve got a nice set of buns.”

She burst into goofy laughter along with her group. You rolled your eyes again and turned away, but she called out once more.

Taylor: “Hey, no, seriously… are your legs tired? ’Cause as long as I have a face, you’ll have a place to sit.”