The Kiss That Belonged To Niall

I found my assigned chair and desk, and plopped into it. I sighed, knowing this year wouldn't be any better; knowing that I'd still be bullied. This time, it might be worse. I'm the American kid who knows nothing about Ireland, or their culture. Nothing. It would usually be at recess, when there were no adults around and I was vulnerable. I kept thinking about how I would handle it this year. Usually, I would keep it quiet. Once in a while, I'd tell my dad or mom.

"Today, We have a new student. Her name is Lila. She will be with us for the rest of the year. She's from America! Lila, would you like to introduce yourself?" The teacher, Ms. Murphy, motioned for me to stand up. I looked around cautiously. I could tell the kids were trying to hold in their laughter. I nervously stood.

"I'm Lila, I was born in Manhattan, and I just moved here because my dad got a job transfer." I quickly sat back down, not meeting anyone's eyes. She nodded, and hurriedly moved on.

For the next three hours, we learned about the Irish language, practiced writing letters, and adding and subtracting money. Ms. Murphy finally let us go for recess and snack time. I ran out the door, and tried finding the most secluded, far away place I could find. But that wasn't enough.