Eugh.. sure, Rogue didn’t exactly think of herself as a prime example of the perfect, pretty high school girl — but, Jesus Christ, this was really doing a number on her self esteem!

In the past, guys at least tried to asked her out and make a move, how any of those attempts ended, Rogue didn’t want to get into, but she never expected that a slightly edgy style would completely make her devoid of any romantic attention.

Eh.. it’s not like she was all that upset — she couldn’t exactly touch anybody, and it was clear from the passing conversations of gross, axe body spray-drenched teenage boys, in the school hallways, that they were waiting for one thing from a relationship.

Making out, suggestive cuddling, secret meetings in bathroom stalls — all that oh so ‘romantic’ stuff… ugh.

However, even with her snarky eye rolls and small scoffs at any crude remarks, Rogue, at times, wished she could be more normal, or, well, ‘pretty’ in the eyes of guys, who barely knew the difference between heavily edited swimsuit models, and real life women — it was a losing battle for her, and it took everything in her power to not want to bash those who were wanted and admired.

God knows that Rogue has done plenty of that in the past, and she wasn’t exactly proud — most of it inflicted at Jean, since her mere existence in a room turned heads and made hearts raced.. ugh, how embarrassing of Rogue, but, at least that’s over and they’re generally okay now.

But now, sluggishly perched on the edge of some scraped, metal bleachers in the large hall of Bayville high, Rogue pondered why she even came to this stupid dance.

Nobody to dance with, the drinks were all sugary and made her teeth want to pull themselves out, and all the songs were way too sappy for her liking.

At least her mildly sparkly, night-black dress was somewhat flattering, no matter how dorky the bell sleeves may have looked — the young woman couldn’t risk accidentally getting stuck in a crowd and knocking out a few powdered girls, and mountain-sized football players.