I have been laughed at all my life. Even when I chirked up the courage to wear a pair of shorts to school, the rejection I received sent my self-esteem spiraling into the deepest pit it has ever been in.

I guess it is true I am not the thinnest girl in tenth grade. I have done my best to become thinner but I enjoy food so it is hard. Besides, everybody knows no one will ever be thinner or more popular than Abigail Hopkins so why bother even trying?

Abigail has won the annual Spring Queen Court contest since junior high.

The only times she looks at me is when people are laughing at my expense. The only time she looks at anyone like me, for that matter, is when people are laughing at their expense. We are like dirt to her.

I am no Abigail and I never will be. But something is making me hover over the table where the entry slips to the Spring Queen Court are laid out. I remember the past couple years; a few new girls and some regulars always try for Spring Queen, but Abigail always wins.

I look up and, as I see Brandon, I snatch a sheet from the table. He comes up to me, radiating warmth.

"Trying for Spring Queen?' he asks.

I blink and then nod, holding the paper tighter in my hands. As Abigail's boyfriend, I am sure it is his duty to tell me to reach for the stars (sarcastically, of course) but he does not say it. Instead he says, "Good luck."

I watch him stroll away, hands in his pockets. Brandon moved here a couple months ago and, even though I was the first to meet him, of course he ended up as Abigail's boyfriend by the end of the week. He is the first boy I have ever liked and I thought perhaps he liked me after we spent a couple hours on my porch sipping lemonade but a boy as tall and athletic as Brandon only belongs to girls like Abigail, not overweight girls like me.

I have to enter the Spring Queen Court now. I would never be able to look Brandon in the eye if I backed out and I want desperately for him to like me as much as I secretly like him. I slide the paper into my backpack and head for my next class.

When I get home, I dump my backpack onto my bed and pick up a letter Mom must have slid under my door during the day. It is from my friend, Milly, who moved away six months ago.

Even though she is like me, Milly had the courage to wear shorts. I have even seen her in a bikini. And people never laughed at Milly; they laughed with her. Milly had somehow found a way to belong to her body. Even Abigail never really laughed at her. Milly is never offended, and Abigail lives for her victim's reactions.

I peek out the window as I put aside the letter. Milly is as happy as ever at her new school, rolling in new friends. I wish I could be her.

The people who bought the house across from us are finally moving in. Briefly I wonder if there is a smoking hot boy among them. As I think it, a boy about my age comes out onto the porch. Even from this distance, I can see he has freckles and a mess of curly, tawny hair.

He is definitely not athletic.

I sigh and move away from the window. Smoking hot boy indeed! Things like that only happen to Abigail.

I pull out the Spring Queen Court sheet. The top reads "Enter the Court for your chance to sit on the Throne!"

The first questions are easy; name, age, address . . . just the normal stuff you fill in on every official document.

Then the questions get hard and I do not have any answers.

What attributes do you have that make you worthy of being Queen?

What message will you share with the students of Carriage County High as Queen?

How can you make Carriage County High a better place as Queen?

I can already imagine what Abigail would put. "I am pretty and popular, and I inspire girls to be as charming and beautiful as I am."

My lip curls in disgust at either Abigail or myself. Probably myself.

I cannot think of anything to answer the questions with. I am fat and plain and stupid. I cannot even imagine myself in any of the dresses Queens wear. I hide the sheet under a notebook on my desk, so I do not have to look at everything I am not.

Right as I do it, Mom calls me, "Honey! Dinner! We have guests."

I run a comb through my hair and trot down the stairs. Of course it is the new neighbors.

Mom introduces me. "Alice, this is Steve and Joelle; they just moved in across the street from us, and this is their son, Grant."

"I grant wishes," he says, and winks.

If only that were true, I think. Instead I smile and say, "Hi."

"Come on in," Mom says. "I made pizza for dinner."

Grant and I end up sitting side by side on one end of the table. As I eat my pizza, I look over at him. He is happily eating.

"Your mom makes good pizza," Grant says. "It is way better than the stuff you get at any pizza place I have been to."

I know I have to say something so I say, "Thanks. There is nothing like home-cooked food! Where did you move from?"

"Used to live in Florida," Grant says. "But Dad got a new job with a record company down here so here we are, the Hallsville's in Tennessee."

"Your dad plays music?" I ask.

Grant shakes his head. "No. He manages a record company."

"Wow," I say, and go back to eating my pizza. After a moment I add, "My Mom and Dad work in the film industry. They write scripts."

"Cool," Grant says. "I have to watch one of their movies. Do you go to Carriage County High?"

My heart sinks. He will be in the same grade as me and, if he is friendly to me, Abigail is sure to single us out as a desperate couple. The new nerd and the fatty.

"Yes," I say. There is no escaping the facts. "We will probably be in the same grade."

By the time Grant laves, I have already discovered he prefers to play his sports online, is a fantasy junkie, and a huge math nerd. Not a Brandon type of guy at all. His blue eyes are nice and I like his smile but that is about all.

I go to bed miserable, wondering what he is thinking about me.

The next day at school Grant comes bouncing up to me. "Hey! Um, since you are the only one I know, I was hoping you could show me around."

"Sure," I say. He stares at Abigail and her collection of clones as we pass. A moment later, though, she is up in our face. She never can leave anyone new alone, even if she will later turn around and humiliate them.

"Hey, you!" Abigail gushes. "You are new here, right? I would remember a guy like you. Where are you from?"

"Abigail, Grant," I say.

"Florida," Grant says. He stares at her. I am sure he wishes he had a girlfriend like her.

"Ooh, a beach boy," Abigail exclaims, and slaps his arm teasingly. "I like that about you. Come on, let me show you around our little school. It is not much but I am sure I can spice it up a little more for you than she ever could."

I flush as Abigail gives me a sneering glance. Grant looks back at me and shrugs as Abigail propels him away. I turn around and bump into Brandon.

"Turn in your entry for the Spring Queen Court yet?" he asks.

"I have almost finished filling it out," I reply. It is not exactly a lie. "Are you going with Abigail?"

Brandon grins. "Sure am. She is a great gal."

There is a dance after the Spring Queen is announced. The Queen and her escort for the night always kick off the dance with a waltz. I am sure I will be dancing alone again.

Grant's first day is not a total disaster. After being rejected by the sporty guys, the cool guys, and the popular guys, he ends up sitting with the nerds in their lonely corner of the cafeteria. He seems happy there.

I sit with the insecure, imperfect girls in another lonely corner. We are all the rejects no guy wants. Our only hope for a boyfriend is in the nerd corner and Abigail would shred anyone who showed such pitiful desperation.

Grant shows up at my house after school. I am secretly trying on a sleeveless shirt in my mirror when he knocks on my room door and takes my startled gasp as permission to enter.

I squeal and grab for my usual covering shirt but he sees me anyway.

"Hi," Grant says. "I like that shirt on you."

He says nothing about my arms and belly. He must be too polite.

"Anyway," Grant continues. "I was having a little trouble with a couple of things about school so my Mom sent me to your Mom who sent me to you."

Quickly I yank on a button down shirt with half sleeves. "What can I help you with?" I ask grudgingly.

He has some confusion over his class schedule. After that is cleared up, he presents me with the entry form for the Spring Queen Court. "What is this?"

"Oh," I say. "Well, any girl can enter. Based on their answers, the school picks and crowns one girl to be Spring Queen for the year. She is supposed to inspire and motivate people. Abigail always wins."

Grant stares at me. "Why? She is like a shallow, stagnant pond, rotting from the inside out."

I snort on my laughter. "Do not let her hear you say that!"

Grant insists, "Why? She is only feared because you choose to fear her. That is where her power comes from."

"Right," I say.

"You should enter," Grant tells me. "You are authentic."

I stare at him. "Girls like me are not Queens. It is impossible."

"I thought you looked great in that purple top," Grant says. "I know how you feel; I am not all muscle and good looks either but, if there was a Spring King contest, I would enter. We cannot change the way people see us unless we try."

He gathers up his papers, thanks me for the help, and leaves me thinking.

The next day I walk into school and see Abigail and Brandon kissing. He takes a moment to say something and Abigail's hilarious laughter makes him grin and lean in for another kiss.

This time instead of wishing I am her, all I think is, "I am glad I am me."

I think of Mom and Dad. Neither of them are perfect in the ways they look but they never shame themselves, me, or each other. Mom enjoyed being pregnant with me even though she looked like a marshmallow. She stopped going to new mom meetings when all she found were women who wanted their old bodies back and stayed home to enjoy her baby.

Mom and Dad love to cook and enjoy good food. They do not guilt themselves for it, or suck up to each other.

I look up to see Brandon. He is handsome and Abigail is pretty. She laughs at his jokes and he pays for her smiles.

That is when I realize boys like Brandon are attracted to girls like Brandon. They do not see people for who they really are.

By the time the day is over, I am ready to enter my sheet into the Spring Queen Court. I go home and answer all the questions. Then I hop over to Grant's house and tell him the news, not because he will like me more but because I want to share and I know he will listen.

We spend the rest of the evening eating popcorn and watching a movie.

I drop my entry into the collection box for the Spring Queen Court the next day. There is a week left until the big day and it passes in a blur.

Mom and Dad are happy I have a new friend in Grant since I have been alone since Milly moved away, and Grant's parents are as imperfectly perfect as mine. They do not try to make him into someone he is not.

Grant helps me pick out my outfit for the night before the Spring Queen winner is announced. I have a secret stash of clothes I am too ashamed to wear but we find what we need there. Though I am hesitant, Grant convinces me to stop shaming myself.

I take a deep breath and ask, "So, even if I do not win, I was hoping you would come to the dance with me."

"Love to," says Grant. "I will see if I can find a suit to wear."

I giggle and try to imagine Grant in a suit. I fail.

The next day I change into my outfit in a bathroom stall at school. The winner of the Spring Queen Court will be announced in half an hour.

I stare down at myself. The gold dress sticks to me, ending at my knees. It makes my butt look big and shows my belly and arms and . . . everything!

Slowly I put on the shoes; gold heels to match the dress but that are not too high. My hair is done up and I am wearing matching blue earrings and a necklace.

I cannot bring myself to go back so I think of what I wrote on my entry form as I leave the stall and trot down the hall to the auditorium. It is packed with girls in glittering dresses and guys all neat in suits, or at least a tie. Abigail and Brandon shine the brightest of the lot. I feel her eyes on me and hear her chuckle before she leans over and whispers to Brandon. I turn red as I join Grant. He is wearing a multi-colored jacket over a pale blue shirt and purple tie. He grins at me.

The Principal steps up to the microphone and the room goes silent. He has the winning entry form in his hand but I cannot tell if it is mine.

"We have had a lot of entries again this year," he says. "And some incredible answers to this year's question. But one entry stood out like a diamond and I would like to read to you the answers of this talented young lady, as I feel Carriage County High could use more girls like her."

Abigail straightens her shoulders and flicks a hair off her breast.

The Principal clears his throat and reads, "What attributes do you have that make your worthy of being Queen?

"I am not pretty or skinny or popular. No one really notices me unless I am at the end of a joke. I am jealous of girls prettier than me and sometimes I hate myself. The only attribute I really have is that I am willing to learn and start loving myself as well as those around me."

The Principal moves on to the second question. "What message will you share with the students of Carriage County High as Queen?

"I will encourage you all, especially the rejected and unpopular ones, to be the best you can. I will set an example for you to follow by learning to love myself the way I am. I cannot promise I will succeed but I will try. That is really all we can do as people.

"How can you make Carriage County High a better place as Queen?

"There is not much of a place in this school for girls like me or boys that do not conform to the laws of coolness or handsomeness. The perfect girls and boys make the rest of us feel bad for being who we are and we let them. I hope, that by showing you that girls like me can love ourselves, the rest of you will do the same. When we are happy with ourselves, jokes and jibes about how fat or weird we are will not matter and we can stop wallowing in depression and start being proud for being us. We need a new image for the face of perfection. Perfect is human, with all its quirks and imperfections."

I cannot believe my ears; Abigail is gaping because the words are not hers and I am gasping because Principal Nichols just read my entry form to the whole school!

"It is my pleasure to welcome our new Spring Queen to the Court," the Principal says. He grins. "Alice Courtney!"

Grant gives me a light push and I stumble up onto the stage. The principal puts the crown on my head and I breathe into the mic.

Abigail's jaw is still dangling.

"So," I say. "This was not easy. I almost did not wear this dress. But I am glad I did because the second time will be much easier. You just have to find the courage to do it the first time and you are half-way there if you have a good friend. Especially if he is a nerd."

A round of hearty applause breaks out and I grin. Grant is probably clapping the loudest and I gesture for him to come up onto the stage.

"This is Grant," I say. "He is my partner for the Spring dance, which we will now start off!"

I grab Grant's hand and we follow the music into a waltz. As soon as it is over, the crowd goes wild and starts grabbing hands as the music encourages some real partying.

"Now this is my kind of music," I say, and pull Grant onto the dance floor.

He tweaks my nose. "My Queen," he teases.

"My King," I tease back, and laugh.