I couldn't even answer. My throat was tight, my head spinning.
It wasn't just the chair. It was everything. But no one seemed to get it.
Before I knew it, Charlie shoved me to the floor.
"Ouch!" I cried. The cold tile stung my knees and elbow. But unlike Ginny, no one came to help me.
Charlie glared down at me like I deserved it. "Get up, you fat pig!"
I looked at Mom, silently begging her to say something—to stop Charlie from calling me names and scold him for pushing me.
But she was silent. She just held Ginny close, her expression unreadable.
The tears I'd held back for so long finally pushed them to the surface.
Why was it always me?! Why was I always the problem?
For the first time, I walked to school alone. No Mom holding my hand, no comforting words to help me manage the anxiety bubbling up inside.
It felt like the start of something bad, but I kept pushing forward. Maybe it was better than going back home, I thought.
When I finally got to class, I dropped into my seat, trying to blend in with the background.
But before I could even settle in, a sharp pain shot through the back of my head.