It's your first day at a new school, and they're talking right behind you.
"Well, I don't think she's that pretty, I mean.. is that what Patrick said, that he thought she's pretty?"
"She's not pretty, Mary. You're so much prettier than her."
"Yeah, Mary. I mean, she looks like a drowned rat or something."
You take a bite of one of the chicken nuggets on your lunch tray. Jesus Christ, this is going to be a long half hour if you have to listen to this shit. When the three girls behind you begin carrying on about the unfortunate brown of your hair, you look around the lunch room for somewhere else to sit. There's nowhere. Just this lonely table you've been marooned to. Every other one of your classmates made a distinct effort to sit away from you, but you see them glancing your way from the corner of their eyes.
You're feeling more and more like a leper. You eat another chicken nugget.
You can't help but notice that they're butchering your name now, the bitches.
"I mean, hello, what kind of name is Jem, anyway?"
"Or is it Jaaam?"
"Did she really ask to go by James?" The three blondes laugh in unison. It's a pretty sound, but tainted in a maliciousness that you've grown unfortunately accustomed to. This middle school cruelty.
The half hour passes like this. It's the end of lunch now, and the girls are getting up from their table. You hear their acidic giggling, rank with plotting. The ringleader, Mary, accidentally knocks a full chocolate milk from her tray. It lands in your hair. And really, you're not even surprised.
"Looks like I'll have to go grab a janitor to mop up this slut.. I mean, spill. This spill."
Chocolate drips into your eyes when you turn around. You say nothing, the girls are laughing. They laugh right up until the moment you lay Mary out with one swing.