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Every afternoon, at 3 pm, she would finally escape the taunting children. Even at eight, she felt the weight of their vicious taunts and unwelcome scorn. As the new girl, she was an easy target and they fed her generous doses of their childish mockery. She ignored them and never cried, pretending instead, that they were invisible. She simply walked by them without a glance, refusing to buy into their stupid games.

Her old school had been different. There, she had been included, a part of the group, the kids. She had best friends there and the worst games they'd played with each other was a competition for who could gain the best grade at the end of the school term. And, there, she couldn't remember any of the kids being so vicious or taunting.

"Nicki," she yelled across the parking spaces, after parent's day was over and she walked toward her mom's car, "what did your report card say?". Then, after hearing her best friend tell her how she had, as usual, obtained straight A's, she'd grin back, "Me, too!". They would both smile and sometimes give a yell of delight. There were no malicious games between her friends at the old school. No taunts she could recall. No disrespect or disregard for each other. Things were as they were meant to be. That was her old school, though.

This new school wasn't only bigger in proportions when playing comparisons with her old school. This school was bloated to near bursting with kids who were swelled with self-importance and found pleasure in another's pain. These kids were experts, professionals devoted to shooting darts of discouragement and ruthlessness. Would it always be this way?

She walked the short mile home from school alone, her arms loaded with books and her mind commanding courage. She was determined not to cry when some other kid tripped her or taunted her before she escaped the school grounds. And, she didn't cry. She cried inside, but never gave them her tears. Instead, as her mama had instructed her, she turned the other cheek. She ignored their words and their laughter, refusing to acknowledge them as she strolled past them. Wise beyond her years, even then, she thought these kids were the worst sort of morons, gaining their strength from another's weakness.

Once she was away from the strange lot who called themselves kids, and made the trek home, she would be welcomed by her best friend and companion. Duchess, always delighted to see her, would bounce and pounce, licking her arms and face, wagging her tail viciously,

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