Petunia at the age of twelve was taller than most—all of her other peers. They'd often poke fun that she was trying to reach the sun and with pens they'd insert holes on the bottom of plastic bottles and water her as if she were an actual flower.

She tried to ignore most of their ugly ways but there was one time when a kid named Milo, a year older than her that always seemed to know everything that happened on the blacktop, grabbed dirt from the baseball field—which was a struggle within itself as it was the field farthest away from the school and started chucking it at her. The dirt stained the back of her shirt and it got into her eyes and he laughed and jeered like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Petunia waved her hands, trying to dodge the hits but she had no control over her awkward limbs. A crowd started to form, most watching the spectacle with greedy eyes, whispers of torment circulating. Where were the adults when you needed them? She had backed away to the edge of the circle, and someone put their hands on her back and slammed her forward. Looking around, she saw that they had sealed Milo and her completely in, every pre-teen body actually touching hands (no one touched hands on desire, the fear of cooties was still too strong at this age) like a link chained fence. 

Her breathing became ragged as Milo circled her like a prey and with the balls of her feet darted away from all of his advances. He laughed at each failed attempt, he was enjoying this too much.

In Petunia's head everything started to overwhelm, she could distinctly hear the harmonization of each kids laugh, the taunting: Peluda Petunia, Peluda Petunia, and her steps clunky and forceful as if her energy was waning with each racking breath.

A random kid had gotten a lonely white bucket that the janitor left behind and dumped in even more dirt and slushy mud mixed together. From every direction brown goop was flung at her and it deterred her to stand still as she cried, "Stop. Stop!"

Her pleas went to deaf ears. Why was it always her? Was she that weird and off-putting that everyone had a put a target on her head? Why couldn't they just leave her alone and act as if she were a bad virus like another school she had gone too? 

And she kind of snapped. It was like watching a bird prepare itself for take-off and in one swift movement their wings expanded, their hollow twig legs did a tiny jump and they were off into the unknown and forever free. So with a strength she didn't know she possessed Petunia pushed into Milo and brought him down, then rapidly yanked his fist free and watched at the dusty brown earth that he'd been holding all this time rain on his face.