Okay, I think you all know I'm June. I'm a typical popular girl, most likely to be this year's homecoming queen, I dis people online like a coward, I sarcastically compliment the freshman girls' skirts, most of which are so last season and make them look like sluts, but before you get all, 'She's so mean, I hate her!' please remember everybody's natural thirst for popularity.

Yes, I knew about Annie's social state, but I never saw, let alone encouraged, the physical bullying. I, like Leo and sometimes Quincy, thought it was just because she was accident-prone. Well, yeah, and teased her about it relentlessly.

I was going to the gang's usual hangout spot, AKA Leo's house, but when I knocked on the door, they must not have heard me. Finally, after ages of knocking and knocking, Leo opened the door and let me in. Quincy was already there, but he looked worried. Come to think of it, Leo did too. "Guys," I asked, "what's going on?" The wordlessly got up and led me upstairs.

"Where are we going?" That question went unanswered too. Finally we stopped at a door, and went inside. Annie, with bruises strewn across her face, was on the bed sleeping.

"Oh, gosh, is she okay?" I asked, alarmed. The two toys turned around to shush me, but the damage was done. A yawn came from sleeping mass of pillows and blankets. "What time is it?" Sleepy eyes peer over at ours. "4'O'clock Annie," said Leo. Another yawn comes quieter than the last. "June," she asks curiously, "why are you here? I thought you said too 'uncool' or something." I flinched, the boys' glares not helping. "It's okay, I don't mind. You're not as bad as the others. All of us flinched that time. I casually walked over and sat on her bed. "Where does it hurt most?" I asked, and yes, of course I care about her. She rubbed her stomach. I gently lifted her shirt to see a bunch blue skin, some of it darker then the rest. The boys had left at this point.

"Do want an ice pack?" She nodded, tears running down her face. I gave her a tissue and went to the kitchen. Pretty soon Annie was holding multiple washcloth-covered bags of ice on her stomach, face, back, and legs. I leaned over and kissed her forehead. She was already nodding off.

As soon as I was downstairs, I was stormed by questions, "Is she okay?" being the most common.

"No," I replied, "of course she's not okay!"