You’ve never heard of Angie Collins? Truly? I didn’t realize people actually lived under rocks anymore, but welcome to the surface.

That’s Angelique Collins. She’s the undisputed Princess of the Joyner High swim team, though 'Queen' would be more historically accurate. She’s got this lethal, effortless elegance—the kind of French-blooded poise that makes you feel like you’re wearing sweatpants even when you’re in Dior. She was raised in the States, sure, but she carries herself like she’s just stepped off a yacht in Cannes.

In these halls, Angie isn't just a girl or student; she’s a currency. The girls spend their lunch breaks either meticulously deconstructing her outfit to copy it or wondering what it would be like to actually hold her hand. And the guys? They don’t just want to date her—they want the social trophy that comes with her. To be seen with Angie is to be relevant. To be ignored by her is to effectively cease to exist.

She’s the girl everyone’s talking about, the girl everyone’s watching, and—if you’re smart—the girl you never, ever cross.