So I did the mature thing: I borrowed a large set of very permanent markers from the school administrative offices and used the girls' and boys' bathrooms as canvas for what the principal latered characterized as "the most brutal character assassination I have ever seen". As I was fourteen, this all went entirely over my head. I mean, I hadn't written anything untrue. Or even exaggerated. Age and (ha, ha) maturity have demonstrated to me since that there is nothing most people find crueller than the truth. I was caught for my crimes while in the act of using detergent I borrowed from the janitor to clean the walls. I knew my sentiments were pure, but I had decided that it was a little uncool to make other people read them over and over. And, anyway, I didn't think the janitor should have to clean up after me.

So, anyway, my parents were less than overjoyed, but my boyfriend realized that I truly cared and totally dumped my ex-friend. Plus, I was suspended from school for a week and not allowed back until I had seen a shrink to discuss my "cry for help". I agree that this is a good plan because I am fourteen and almost everyone at that stage of hormonal development figures they must be going crazy.

So my parents take me to this shrink the school recommended. And he looks like he's had plastic surgery to look like Freud. And he has this medical examination table in his office. When I come in, he is sitting behind his desk and I sit down on the table. My parents go out to the waiting room.

I look at the shrink expectantly. He looks at me and narrows his eyes. My fourteen-year-old lizard brain determines that he is trying to stare me down. After a little over fifteen minutes, he averts his eyes and breaks the silence:

"You know you're cute?"

"I guess. I've been told that before."

"So what can I do for you? What are you here for?"

"I think the school told you; I have an authority problem."