Little Miss perfect gets into school, her 4.0, her AP credits, her surplus of extra-curricular nonsense, her laundry list resume, her stunning looks, with the long blonde hair, the skinny lanky legs, and the smile of a southern belle. Her daddy made millions, and her mother was her 30 years ago. On the surface, she’s perfect. On the inside, her self esteem is trashed, her personality fractured, her education useless in the real world, her street sense that of a baby. High schooling has prepared her for nothing, her extra-curriculars nothing more than cheap glitter.
The fragile creature is pushed out of the nest with a quick pep talk and a bundle of clothes, and plops down in the middle of the real work, in a grimy, dank, city with thousands of other equally fragile and lost sheep. They are stuffed in a cubby with a buddy and set loose on the world. In her prior world, everything was pasteurized for success. Failure was censured away, hidden from view, filtered from the mind, and labeled a non-option. The delicate graph of friends was setup for success in the clean room environment of the high school, with carefully orchestrated social interactions of lunch tables, cliques, and crowds. All that goes to waste, and is replaced by adulthood, the ultimate challenge, a life with no parents, no teachers, no safety net, goggles, and pasteurized milk. Viruses, bacteria, and psychology fly through the air, embedding themselves in anything, any crevasse, any weakness or wrinkle in the skin. Character is destroyed and rebuilt, and previous persona worthless. The world stalks the sheep with the vengeance of a wolf, and the sheep has the wool on their back. Here enters the freshmen, ready to rise, or most likely, fall.