12:15 pm, May 10th | by Laura Donovan
In the junior high, a popular male classmate named Timmy stuck a “Kick Me Hard” sign on my back during biology class. We’d been at each other’s throats for months, so when I leaped up from my seat to write something on the chalk board and the substitute teacher warned, “You have a sheet of paper on the back of your sweater,” I knew before even peeling the note off my shirt that Timmy had chosen me to be the school’s latest victim of public humiliation. The classroom roared with laughter and some students pointed in my direction. The scene could have been plucked out of “Diary of a Wimpy Kid,” it was so cringe-worthy, and I remember believing that I’d never forgive Timmy for belittling me in front of a crowd once again.