I have to be careful, when I think back on high school, or I start burnishing my memories with a sort of golden glow, because it took place in a small town with a lot of 19th century houses (which I didn't at the time realize were very quaint) & a lot of family farms still active just outside the village limits. When I go back to visit my mother, I'm appalled at all the development that has taken place & how the town is learning to market its good looks & turn into a sort of theme-parkish place.
Okay, so the setting was great. But that didn't help much. I wasn't happy there. I was fat, & at 17 had the hips of a woman in her 40s, floundered around helplessly in gym (the horrors of changing publicly in the girls' locker room!) & I wore wire-rimmed glasses. My hair was long. It really looks far better short but I hadn't figured that out yet. I read constantly, as a way of tuning out of the world. I wrote poetry & stories. (In fact, I wrote a historical novel, very bad, of course. I wanted to be like S.E. Hinton, who wrote "The Outsiders" when she was 18.) I was a member of the misfit clique -- I was friends with boys who were beaten up for being gay, and with three (from a total of maybe eight, all related) African-American kids in our overwhelmingly white district, and with foreign exchange kids whose accents rendered their conversation nearly unintelligible.
College was so much better. But it wasn't until I hit 30 that life really blossomed for me.

We moved after my freshman year, and I was desolate, and pretty friendless for a while. My HS was huge and competitive (in everything, not just academics) and I was definitely not of the same socio-economic status as the majority of the people there. They were all pretty well-off, living in gated communities and getting cars on their 16th birthdays. I got a set of keys to mom's car (and was genuinely excited about it!). 
