OPHELIA
The usual hum of chatter in the Dionysus Commons dining hall seems to have gone up a hundred decibels. A group of about twenty students, some of whom I recognize from high school, are crowded in the corner, and I crane my neck to see what’s causing all the fuss. Too many people block my view, so I give up and turn to study my options for lunch.
“Penelope!”
My feet and heart falter. Surely it’s a coincidence that someone just called out that name. It isn’t totally unique.
But when I turn around, the crowd parts enough for me to see that my misfortune is real. My worst nightmare comes alive before my eyes. Standing there, larger than life and surrounded by sycophants, is Penelope Nugent. The girl who made so much of my time in high school a misery. The same person responsible for
