On the last day of fourth grade, my youngest daughter was tying her shoes while I stood waiting with her lunchbox. "Do you remember fourth grade, Mom?"she asked, as she struggled to lace up the Chuck Taylors. My answer surprised both of us. "I hated it. It was the worst year of school I ever had." My fourth grade tormenter looked like a Gap Kids model. "C" had porcelain skin, perfect white teeth, cornflower eyes, and blond hair that hung thick and straight, regardless of weather conditions. She arrived in Mrs. McKenna's classroom, took one look around, and decided she wanted my best friend Kitty to be her best friend. And she went about driving me away from the herd the way only elementary school mean girls can. She teased me for being fat, for wearing glasses. For days at a time, she would be kind to me, inviting me to birthday parties and sleepovers. Then, BAM -- I would be back in the doghouse, with no idea what happened. I later found out t...