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"Maybe there's, like, a sorority you can, like, join, like." Enid Wexler's mocking words wounded Elle deeply. If she had received shabby treatment from girls who looked like Elle - and she was genuinely sorry for her if she had - that certainly didn't give her the right to turn around and do the same thing to one who'd had no part of that.
The others in the study group were no better, least of all Elle's ex-boyfriend Warner, who not too long ago claimed he still loved her even when he was breaking up with her. Sure, he'd made a halfhearted, almost condescending, suggestion that she might be allowed in the group, and that was worse than the flat-out refusal of the others to accept her.
Well, she wasn't going to put up with it anymore. She marched back to their table.
"Where do you get off assuming I'm not as smart as you?"
Warner, Vivian, Enid and the rest of them just smirked. She went on: "I got into Harvard exactly the same way you all did. So what is it about me that makes me less than you? Is it my looks? My fun personality? My love of everything pink?"
The group exchanged uncomfortable glances, as if they thought those qualities were, in fact, beneath them, but at the same time, giving expression to that sentiment would make them appear vulgar and ignorant.
"Look at you," Elle said. "You're all law students, and yet you're unwilling to give me a fair trial. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves."
Warner gaped at her. Enid just rolled her eyes. "All right," she grumbled. "Let it never be said that we future Supreme Court justices denied Malibu Barbie a fair trial. You may join us for now. But remember this: we are serious students here."
"As am I," Elle said.
"That means." Enid continued, "that any frivolous chitchat about Delta Nu, fashion, makeup or hair will get you kicked out. Understand?"
Elle knew then she had to resist the urge to squeal, clap her hands and give everyone hugs.
"Understood," she said. "Thank you."