Chickens are 8th graders

I speak of hens and eighth grade girls, the ones who hang out in cliques and are very slow to let in newcomers. They huddle together and giggle while the outsiders stand forlornly in their corner, wondering if they're the ones being giggled about.

Are we wearing the wrong outfits?



What did they just say?

Eventually the most self-assured girl wanders over to the newcomers, as if she doesn't really notice them even while she's checking them out.

Hmmm, they look dorky but might improve with time.

The other girls talk it over. Shall we let them join us?

We'll let them hang out nearby for a while so we can rate their coolness factor.