I still felt insecure about my body. It didn’t help that people stared. I made my way to my locker, but before I could even set eyes on it, I felt someone shove me.

“What’s up, fatass?”

I knew who it was before I turned around and saw Lewis give me his signature stupid grin. He had been keeping his distance from me since the cafeteria incident. They even took him out of our gym class because they didn’t want him or Donny around each other, and if Lewis was suspended once more, the school would have to expel him.

“Just because you’re not as fat doesn’t mean you’re not a fatass,” he snarled.

That didn’t even make sense, but it still hurt. Even though I wasn’t “as fat,” I didn’t like being called that.

I’d never understood why he took his anger out on me. I wanted to punch him in the face, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t. I had been doing kickboxing for the last couple of months, but something about Lewis brought out enough fear and anxiety that it turned me into stone. I just stood there and took it.

“You might lose weight, but you’ll probably gain it back anyways. You know you can’t handle yourself around food. You’re gross.”

He began sticking fingers in my chest, pushing me back against the locker, making me scared.

“You’re lucky you know Donny, otherwise I’d pound your face again. But right now, there’s no one here to save you.” He shoved me against the lockers as people in the hallway watched. “Big tough guy. Think because you’re in karate or whatever, it means you can take me. I’d wreck you, kid,” he threatened.

I finally found enough courage and tried to shove him back, but all he did was shove me harder into the lockers. It hurt. Learning to fight is one thing, but having the confidence to fight back is another. In that moment, I couldn’t find the strength.

“Watch your back, fatty. Ever throw a sandwich at me again and I’ll whack you,” he warned as he walked away from me.

I kept my head down. I knew everyone in the hall was watching, but no one said a thing. That was the thing I hated about high school. We all went through the same shit, but no one wanted to help anyone else.

I skipped the rest of school and went home. I didn’t care. I was so mad at Lewis — he showed everyone how weak and incompetent I was. I hated him, and I wished I had punched him square in his jaw. But I hadn’t. What I did do was go into my kitchen, and start making a peanut butter sandwich. And no, I wasn’t hungry. I ate two granola bars even though I was already full. I ate a bowl of cereal while my stomach was beginning to hurt. Food comforted me, but it wasn’t what I needed. After I drank the milk from the bowl, I thought about Lewis, I thought about Mel, I thought about my body and how I was letting everyone down. I smashed the bowl on the floor and just screamed. It wasn’t pretty.