Kathleen would not know a friend if one sank its teeth into her wrist--which is more or less what she expects from the mass of other girls. She skirts them cautiously, as if they were dangerous wild animals loitering about a common watering hole ready to pounce, you'd never know why or what hit you. She fears them, sharp glinting creatures, and hasn't a clue what they talk about or how they do it. How they merge into gregarious packs. Kathleen is in fact horribly shy, but no one would ever suspect it--after all, she gets up and sings in front of halls full of people.