Alden '96

For Example:
When pep rally time came around, we didn't dress in our class colors, or even sit with our various classes. Instead we were a black-clad clump located front and center, the better to destroy the class colors effect in the yearbook photos.

The difficulty with being front and center, in this instance, was that we had seated ourselves directly in the path of the varsity quarterback and a posse of his friends. This was their day, and they didn't want to be reminded that not everyone bought into their macho cult. They wanted to get to the floor to receive the acclaim of the mindless masses, and they wanted to do it quickly. They pushed through us, treading on my boyfriend's hand. (For those who are easily amused, it is worth noting that his first name was Erik. We didn't know anyone named Dylan, though.)

We were resolved that when they came back, they would go around us or they wouldn't go at all.
Our resolution, predictably, did not sit at all well with them. They would not go around. We would not move. Our numbers were about even, but the shoving inevitably rippled outwards and the exchanged taunts drew the attention of the surrounding crowd. The majority of them had sympathies that lay with the status quo.

At this point, a few teachers became alert enough to notice something amiss, and moved in. The jocks resolved the matter quickly by actually climbing over us to reach their seats.
The pep rally appeared to go on without wavering, but up in the stands word was rapidly spreading about what had gone on. By the time we were dismissed, it seemed everyone knew. The crowd packed in around us. What might have happened were we not a bunch of paranoids, I don't know, but paranoids we were, so we pulled a manuever whereby the two female DYA members flanked the others. Jocks in Alden in 1996 still didn't beat up girls when the authorities were watching, fortunately.