I have been bullied since I primary, it's all I know. Maybe it's because of my humongous bulbous stomach, or maybe it's the pizza-like face I have plastered wherever I go, or maybe it's because I'm a 5'1 male.
I have too many attributes that make me an easy candidate for bullying: I'm one of the odd 15-year-olds who enjoy sports but is never even picked to join a team, then the teacher feels sorry for me and allows me to choose. That's what's happening right now.
"Cassiel, you can pick which team you want to join." Miss Walkers gives me an endearing smile, encouraging me to choose the team I want to join. Glancing around the hall that has 2 basketball nets hung on two opposite sides of the wall and lines drawn on the light green floor, I take in my "peers": the team with my worst bully, Marcus, or the team with seemingly calm people.
I point at the team with the seemingly calm people that are huddled in the right corner of the hall, they frown a bit as Miss Walker nods happily and beckons me to go towards them.
I glance back at Marcus, gulping, as I stumble towards my team, he grins at me, his round stomach bulging along with his veiny arms and his beady twinkling eyes - he knows I fear him.
"Ugh, why did he choose us?" A brunette girl that towers above me grunts in annoyance as she acknowledges my existence - I'm right near her. I hate that even though I'm surrounded by a crowd of humans, I still feel like I don't belong to the group of humans, I feel so alone and different.
"Obviously it's because Marcus is there!" The team laughs in agreement.
"Fucking coward..." A guy with blonde mopy hair continues to make fun of my choice at teams, I hate this.
+++
After the horrendous basketball game, we all rush towards the locker room. I'm still a huffing and puffing mess, my black curls are stuck to my forehead like soggy noodles as I try to keep up with the students running towards the locker room. It's a body of titans that are surrounding me.
Slip! My pizza face makes love with the sweaty floor, it doesn't stop there as I slip even further like a stick in a rushing waterfall and my head collides with the door, my glasses bruise my nose.
"Gosh! Cass are you okay?" Marcus comes to my aid, acting in front of Miss Walker, he grabs my fingers harshly, placing a forced look of concern on his face.
I hate this.
I peer at Miss Walker who is smiling at our exchange, "Serviam Marcus!" She says gleefully. "Serviam" is showing kindness to our peers - little does she know what goes on behind closed doors.
As my school, St Ursulas School of Excellence, is an Ursuline school, "Serviam" is one of our key ethos'. I hate this school, it just surprises me that a Catholic school like this allows the way Marcus treats me to force me to hate life in general.
"Thank you," I manage to say, squirming under his eyes that hold a mischievous glint to them. I get up, wiping my sweaty palms on my baggy shorts, also rubbing my sweaty palms on my face - it's probably because of these dimwits my face is so pimple filled.
A hand grasps at my shoulder, "Cassiel, you trip every lesson," it's Miss Walker, she frowns now, "try not to be as clumsy next time, yeah?"
I nod rapidly, trudging towards the locker room again.
My locker has always been next to Marcus, as we've always been in the same class and our names are right next to each other in the register - I guess that is also why I'm a target. I'm also squashed between the wall and him so he always pushes me against it when I try to change.
