Harsh Glory

   Graceful, poised, and endlessly radiant, Diana Prince walked through the halls of Metropolis High.  Despite her natural beauty, however, she went mostly unnoticed.  Although she could have easily taken advantage of her looks to rise among the school's social ranks, she preferred to keep quiet.  She made every attempt to merely blend into the background, and took care not to wear attention-grabbing clothing.  Except for the boots.  She loved tall boots, usually black.  But, boots aside, she avoided being outwardly noticeable.  After all, she was there to learn, not to make a show of herself.
   The "popular" girls at Metropolis High had several things in common: heavily dyed hair, large doses of eye shadow, and a chronic need for attention.  Diana had none of these things.  She preferred to avoid the attention of those whom she deemed to be themselves undeserving of attention.
   However, Diana still made sure to take note of all her peers' behavior.  This being the first day of the Fall semester, the school was abuzz with activity.  New students were working through the confusion of finding where they belonged—both in a literal and metaphorical sense—while returning students were busy reasserting their statuses in various social circles.
   Listening intently to every voice around her, Diana waited.  She waited for the one voice—the one sentence—that would prove her beliefs about the world correct.
   "Hey, did you see the Sharks game last night?"
   "Oh my god! My new jeans are ruined!"
   "I think my next class is... over there?"
   "Hey, Nelson, would you mind helping me with a little something?"
   There it was.
   Off to her left, Diana saw a girl that was apparently using her femininity to persuade a handsome young man to help her open a jammed locker door.  "Hey, sure," the boy smoothly replied.  Diana read his face and instantly saw that he reciprocated her shallow affection.  The nerve of them! Hiding their lustful motives in plain sight! Before the boy could even attempt to open the probably-not-jammed locker door, Diana walked between them, firmly grabbed the door's handle, and pulled.  She nearly tore it clean off the wall.  "There," Diana said firmly, giving the girl a quick-but-icy glance.  She walked away, leaving the two shallow teens slack-jawed and confused.
   As Diana continued her walk through the hall, she suddenly felt a deep sadness, both for the world and for herself.
   I really screwed that up.  They were acting stupid, it's true, but it wasn't my job to correct them.  Or is it?  Why must people hide their true selves?  Why must the world revolve around lies?  Why must I be tasked with setting it right?
   The bell rang.