Not In My School is a weekly feature that throws out one YA lit cliche a week to compare to my own high school days. Because we all know how accurate those fictional nuances are . . .
When I was a teenager I was shopping at places like Pacific Sunwear (before it was relabeled PacSun), Hot Topic and Claire’s. None of these places would have any kind of magical object (usually a piece of jewelry) that would endow me with any kind of power to do anything except magically turn my fingers green. At the rate kids are lighting up the world in YA fiction you’d think their parents would let them get all blinged out in their heirloom finest. Or they’re shopping at Tiffany’s. Nearly everyone I knew didn’t have that kind of expendable cash to stick a valuable piece of jewelry on an aimless teenager, whether it was freshly bought or generations old. And if it were the latter parents would usually cut off their right hand before allowing their fifteen-year-old to don it for their friends. Just the thought makes me vomit in my mouth a little. So where are all these attainable magical objects coming from? Are we spawning a generation of kleptomaniacs?