Pins and needles spread down my neck, through my chest, along my arms, deep into the pit of my stomach. I knew what it was, it wasn’t the shivering from the cold, it was shame. Shame mixed with anger, and maybe the terror of not being able to have control over any little thing in my life.

‘Come on, let’s go, Phoebe,’ Caroline said, pulling me by the arm to class. I breathed in the chilly air, trying to snap out of it. I knew I needed to get into a better headspace to give my presentation. As if being nervous about my presentation wasn’t enough.

I took my notes and USB from my bag and sat at my desk, just wanting to get straight into it.

Michael looked at me while everyone was still shuffling around. ‘Aren’t you cold, Phoebe?’

Of course I was cold, I was freezing. I didn’t have the headspace to think about what to wear on a freezing cold day like normal people.

And then Matilda said, ‘She’s Aboriginal; she was born beneath a tree and doesn’t feel the cold.’

Michael started to say something but all of my anger and frustration came boiling up and out of me like a volcano. ‘What the hell do you mean by that?’ I yelled.

‘It’s just a joke,’ Matilda said, trying to laugh it off.

I jumped up from my seat and shoved her chest with all of the force I could muster. I yanked her hair and said, ‘It’s really fucking funny, isn’t it Matilda?’

Everyone went absolutely silent, stunned. I was stunned. I suddenly realised I was trying my best to hurt Matilda.

Michael said, ‘Please let Matilda go, Phoebe.’ I could see Caroline staring at me like everyone else in the class.

‘You’re a bitch,’ I said to Matilda as I let go. I burst into tears, my heart breaking.

I sat back at my desk as if nothing had happened, only thinking about how much Matilda had deserved what she got.

‘Are you okay?’ I heard Michael ask Matilda. She nodded, and seeing her sitting there like a poor little victim made me feel like getting up again and slapping her.

Michael turned to me and said calmly, ‘Come with me, Phoebe.’

I followed him out of the class. I could see that he was angry but trying not to let it show. ‘I’m not getting into trouble for what just happened,’ I told him before he even opened his mouth.

He stopped walking, spun around and looked at me. ‘Phoebe, I can see you’re really struggling at the moment.’

‘I’m sick of the racist bullshit.’

‘I can see that, and I’m sorry for Matilda’s behaviour. But you can’t assault people, Phoebe.’

Assault. That sounds dramatic, I thought.

‘But she was hurting me,’ I said, confused.