What was it that day? Sunday? Monday? All I remember is that it was raining that day.

Were you cold perhaps? Your clothes were soaked after all. Your frail arms looked even more frail in that blue shirt. How did your legs even support you, by the way? They were so skinny. Didn't you trip?

Well, you did. Very often. But not by yourself.

The way you bit your bottom lip while entering the class made me wonder why you were so nervous. Your thick rimmed glasses were an annoyance to me, you know. I could never read your eyes for them. I could never see your true emotions while they called you names.

Faggot. Girly. Gay.

You didn't say anything. You never did. You didn't even meet anyone's eyes.

But your bony fingers were always clenched in a fist.

My friends snickered from beside me.

I tried smiling too. I had to.

Those were all harmless jokes after all.