But this still wasn’t the worst part of the whole experience. During one of the routine passes, I stretched my arm too far, too hard, and heard a familiar noise. I looked down just in time to see one of my shirt buttons bounce on the floor and then skid under a desk. After this unfortunate mishap, I was forced to figure out a way of hiding my bra, which was now on full display. And it wasn’t a pretty bra either, oh no. It was one of those double strength sports bras with extra wire and thick straps that desperately attempts, yet dismally fails, to defy the inevitable pull of gravity. So, for the rest of the day I had to walk around awkwardly clutching a book to my chest. Which might not have been so bad if I hadn’t then proceeded to do ten thousand steps with Teagan, who insisted on showing me around the entire school: “. . . toilets, janitors’ closet, you can make out there . . . storeroom, you can also make out there . . . gym, science lab, bleachers, also make out, but be careful—last month Amber and Jake were caught by the hockey coach. But Jake’s not really into Amber anymore because she kind of went ballistic when she caught him DMing Nina-M, ‘only as friends!’” She threw some dramatic air quotes around, and I wasn’t sure I got their meaning. Were they just friends, weren’t they just friends? The social structure of this habitat was so foreign to me, I wished this was a National Geographic documentary and David Attenborough was narrating the ins and outs of it all, so I could better understand it. “I think Jake made out with her because she’s number one on the Hot List, though . . .” she said. “He kind of makes his way down the list. Mind you, Amber is the one who publishes the list on our WhatsApp group, so she could have put herself at one, since no one knows who makes the list every year.” The Hot List, I discovered, was a list that came out once a year, rating all the girls from hot to not. Thank goodness I wasn’t going to be around next year.