Bullying
My name is Mitch MacLeod. On the first day of school I can tell that it's going to be a bad year. As soon as I walk into the classroom Philip points at me and yells, "Hey, Midget-brain, the kindergarten is down the hall." Everyone looks, naturally, including any new kids I might have had a chance with. Chevy chips in, "Here, little boy, I'll take you to Mrs. Granoff." She holds out her hand. You'd never know that over the summer we were practically friends. She totally towers over me, but I ignore her.
"Ohmygod! Is that what it said?"
I wondered what they were whispering about. I walked down the hall. Two girls who had been saying hi recently didn't say anything or even look at me. I suddenly felt invisible again.
I knew something was going on but what?
A crowd was milling around the lockers, talking and laughing, but as soon as I showed up, the noise stopped dead.
A few kids coughed. A few others snapped their lockers shut and left. One girl gave me a strange look, as if I had horns growing out of my head.
