The time I was a mean girl– it’s a story that I’m both proud and ashamed to tell. Proud because it shows how much I’ve grown since the third grade, but ashamed because it reminds me that I was Regina George in the body of a little girl. The mess began with Gabrielle Fisher. She was everything I wasn’t. The girl was from New York and seemed exotic to everyone in my class, including myself. She exuded this punk-rocker vibe, sporting a pink highlight and knee-high Converse. I was as jealous as any girl could get, but soon, it was more than just jealousy. One of my friends said Gabrielle said I was annoying (which was fair), but annoying was enough to drop a ball of adolescent fury. I made it my mission to hate Gabrielle Fisher. Besides bad-mouthing
