I walked nervously through the corridors of the school. My hands were shaking, my knees were trembling. I was late because I had overslept, and I knew how my class would react: they would laugh at me when I walked in, throw paper balls at me when I grabbed my belongings, whisper my name teasingly when I was working, step on my toes when I packed my things after the bell, shove me over as I stood up, and stick out their legs so I would literally stumble out of the classroom. Oh, and then they would laugh at me again.

I arrived at the classroom and took a deep breath. Today only until quarter past twelve, then I'm done...

I felt a pang in my heart as I opened the door and received all the looks filled with hatred and suspicion. I was overwhelmed with sadness as my prediction came true for the thousandth time and everyone laughed at me. Don't cry, I sternly told myself, don't cry, it only makes it worse. I heard ripping paper, it was crumpled and squashed into a ball, and they threw and tossed it at me.

I sat down and took out my math book.

More paper balls... I was drowning in them.

The worst part was that my math teacher allowed it all with a sly, dirty smirk on his face; and he wasn't the only one... All the teachers had something against me, except for my geography teacher, he was the only one I trusted at school. And I think he even likes me, and believe me, it's rare for someone to like me.

The day went on, as always, difficult. The worst was French.

She was a real witch.

She kept asking me for the answer, even though she knew I couldn't speak a word of French and I had only kept it because my parents considered it "important". She always snapped at me to be quiet, but in the meantime, I was as quiet as a grave and my class acted like a bunch of monkeys, shouting around the classroom.

During the following break, I was alone again, but it didn't matter; I was already used to it.