A story by alumna Cynthia Reeves (fiction, ’06) appears at Waxwing:

We were the ugly girls. You know the ones, our hair hanging limp in oily strands pulled tight with red rubber bands. Glasses slipping, perpetually slipping past the deep red gouges, like third eyebrows, bridging our noses. Whiteheads blistering, rimmed with purple rings. We jabbed our glasses with thick fingers. We picked and scabbed. We scarred easily.

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