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I’m sitting in my history class, staring out the window. I hate being here. I hate that no one else wants me here. I hate myself for feeling so depressed.

Suddenly, I feel a snicker behind me. It comes from Jason, an RB of the football team. I can feel the eyes of more than one person burning into me and the laughter grows. I feel the humiliation rise within me. I haven’t any idea what they have done this time, but I ignore it. After all these years of abuse, I developed an anxiety which freezes me.

The clock mounted on the wall shows only a few minutes left of class, and this helps me breathe a sigh of relief. It’s Friday afternoon and soon I would be at home, in the safety of my bedroom. I won’t need to deal with the cruelty of the preps at school.

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