I never found the evil in my heart to call her any names to her face, but I also never found the courage to make it stop. I could have helped her more than once. I could have pulled my boyfriend away, I could have distracted my friends, or I could have just yawned and said, "this is boring" then led the pack away. Instead, I did nothing. I stood by feeling a little nauseated and very grateful that I wasn't in her shoes.

I was popular then, but I hadn't always been. Watching her singled out for scorn only reminded me of how easily I could have been in her place. It made me see just how lucky I was that my skin had cleared up in 10th grade, that my metabolism was naturally high, that I was as good at sports as I was at academics, and that nobody seemed to remember the mouse of a girl I had been for my first three years of high school. I wasn't confident in my popular skin, I wasn't comfortable with who I was, and that is why I never helped her.

Now at age 30, as I think about those moments, my heart breaks in a million places. There are no words to describe the intense regret I feel for not having been a better person. I was insecure and had no faith in my friends to like me if I were to stand up to them. I wasn't strong. I wasn't mature. I wasn't the grown-up in a youthful body that I thought I was. I was a scared little girl who wanted nothing more than to belong and be liked. I am sure Effie only wanted the same things.

Every day I look into my daughter's eyes and I pray I never see even a shadow of the pain I used to see in Effie's. I know that having a daughter has given me a whole new perspective on how my friends and I treated Effie over a decade ago. We were so very wrong. There was nothing to be gained by our cruelty. It was bad enough that we excluded her from our group; there was no reason we had to label her a pariah to others. I am so sorry that I was party to stealing a portion of another person's youth and happiness. I am so sorry that I hurt her the way that I know I did.