I was paralyzed. Glued, stapled, fused to the uncomfortable benches that filled the obnoxiously crowded gym. The freshmen had been announced; their prince and princess crowned with this stupid piece of sequined crap. Kristin, in her Egyptian clad wiseman couture, cleared her throat to bellow a manish voice with all her acting skill. The crowds in the gym seat succumbed to quiet curiosity due to the anxiety as a result of the week prior. Madi and I, our campaign, our goal, our inspiration from the movie “Stick It” where they fix the winner of the gymnastic competition as the ultimate act of anti-conformity would come to fruition in the next seconds. The ultimate act of controlled rebellion was our plan: Sarah Sommers was going to be sophomore princess. The person who would not allow it to go to the head deserved it. Although it was not an earned prize this year, it never really at the mouth is. Just a superfluous, frivolous joke to whoever won. Being able to skew the masses by yelling vote for Sarah summers at the top of our lungs for an entire week was prize enough for us. All these thoughts rushed through my head, as formaldehyde seems to pump through my capillaries leaving me still as cement. A lightheaded rush drenched my cerebral cortex as Kristin slithered the first “S” of Sarah’s name.