In fifth grade every social group had its own distinct background music. On the blacktop, the tomboys and little leaguers dribbled kickballs and skinned their elbows as Will Smith sounded from the coach’s stereo. On the sidewalk, the Girl Scouts played hopscotch and snapped each other’s training bras while humming the melodies of Britney Spears. On the wood chips, the gifted kids practiced their chorus solos. On the teachers’ parking lot, in the name of Limp Bizkit, bullies feasted on stolen Fruit Roll-Ups and mooned anyone who saw. Why didn’t I fit in?
