Sarah feels like a zebra in a herd of horses. She stands out like a sore thumb in the halls of her high school. She hears the boys cough into their hands and whisper, "Plygie," and she wonders if she should be grateful that they don't call her "slut" like they do the other girls.

She usually decides that no, she shouldn't be grateful.

So much of her existence feels wrong. She doesn't fit in at her high school because of her family. She doesn't fit in at home because she hates what her mother has allowed. She doesn't fit in with Scott because every time she looks at him, though she's grateful for his support, she thinks of the tiny bit of humanity Nicki flushed down the toilet months ago. She's a zebra in a herd of horses, and all the other horses know it.

The worst part of it is, there was one person who didn't care, one person who didn't mind the stripes, the otherness.

And Sarah's lost her.