"Come on," Jenny said, offering a hand. "There's a path around the back of the library. It's longer, but there aren't any lists or abysses."

The fluorescent lights of South Park Elementary hummed with a tension that usually preceded a dodgeball game or a cafeteria riot. Jenny Simons stood in the hallway, her blond hair pulled back, staring at the bulletin board. Beside her, Wendy Testaberger was ticking names off a clipboard with the clinical efficiency of a war general.

Halfway home, she saw a figure sitting on a curb near a construction site. It was Butters Stotch, staring at a hole in the sidewalk where a yellow ribbon had been tied. "Hey, Butters," Jenny said, stopping.

"I just wanted to be included," Jenny muttered. In a town where kids regularly died and came back to life or fought elder gods, being "one of the girls" was the only safety net she had.