Because of the long-lasting frustration of what I eat, my mother kindly enrolled me in the school canteen for their nasty lunches.

Low carb diet went aside when two days in a row I was weak and had a constant headache.

I show my school ID card with a nasty photo of myself and gently smile at the cook. She puts a brownish thing on my plate.

I curl my face and sit at the nearest table.

"You look better." Tells me a curly blonde girl with her hair just above her shoulders.

I clench my fists and the spoon lands on the table.

"Can you finally stop talking about my health?" I sharply stand up from the wooden table with the green tablecloth.

Pissed off I am pushing everyone who is standing in a row to take down their clean plates.

I growl.

My eyes turn on my light blue blouse, where the brownish thing has  landed.

My eyes then wander on the asshole that caused this.

I take a deep breath and run with my head up out of the building.