Libby was walking down the corrider, heading for the food court where she would meet up with her friends and otherwise minding her own business when one of the guys from school stepped out in front of her.
"Hey Libby," he said.
"Hi Brad," Libby replied, and started to step around him, but he just moved with her. "Can you move? Please?"
"Sure, I can move," he replied, slipping his arms around her waist.
"You have exactly five seconds to move your hands -" Libby began, then corrected herself she she felt Brad's hands slide down to her butt, "off my person before I kick your scrawny pathetic excuse for a butt over to next week."
"Oh, c'mon, Libby," he wheedled, pulling her against his body. "You don't have to put on a show. Everyone knows you're already sleeping around with those guys you hang out with. Why not me too?"
Libby's eyes narrowed and created a quilt of tiny bubbles between them. They started up small, but as Libby was capable of producing durable bubbles they didn't pop, and instead grew larger and larger until they forced Brad to let go. A wall of bubbles about six inches thick divided them.
"Didn't your mother tell you never to listen to hearsay?" she demanded darkly. "If you ever ever touch me again, or encourage such slander in the future I will make sure you regret it 'til your dying day."
And thus, Libby turned her back on him, and took the long way to the food court, all the while trying to ignore the way her hands were shaking.