I was 12 and in the middle of puberty, way ahead of the other girls in my grade. I was about 35 lbs overweight and had just got glasses. My family couldn’t afford much so they were plastic before plastic was cool. My hair, which had been poker straight the previous 8 years of my life, started to curl up and no one had any idea how to take care of curly 2c/3c hair. It was a frizzy mess all the time having been brushed dry every morning. Eventually I just started wearing it back in a ponytail everyday. A handful of my classmates made it their life goal to make sure I was aware of every difference between them and me, and I was aware, painfully so. I hated myself. I was such a sensitive child that I took every little thing to heart and believed it all.
There was another boy, Jake, who liked to pick on me as well. He would make booming noises when I walked by. He would do the “my friend wants to be your boyfriend!” (friend: “eww, no!” they all laugh) thing. He walked to school the same path I did so when we got out he would follow me on his scooter and throw pebbles at me on the way home.I had a couple of classes with each of them and one class with both. One afternoon while we were supposed to be writing a history paper I felt something sting my neck and heard little giggles as I reached back to see, what it was. My hair was covered in spitwads. Amy and Jake were assigned seats behind me. When I realized what was going on I put my head down and cried quietly.