As I was quietly munching on my vanilla muffin with a hand, I searched for the textbooks in my locker with the other. I was going about my routine heading to the next class, yet fate seemed to have other plans for me – slapping a known fact across my face. Holding onto my Chemistry and AP Calculus textbooks, I thought I could manage with a hand and continue enjoying my muffin with the other – which I could, if there was no deliberate action of tripping me.

          I blinked. Once, twice.

          My mind was blank for it has happened too fast for my liking. I could not comprehend the situation whereby I was suddenly sprawled on the floor. I witnessed my half-eaten muffin kiss the dirty concrete tiles of the ground, next to my textbooks which were flipped open.

          What on earth happened?

          It took me a moment or few to register the fact that my muffin was on the ground. I widened my eyes, upset about the fact. “My muffin! This is such a crime for wasting—“

          “You’re a crime,” I heard snickers from a group of girls approaching me from behind, failing to muffle their laughter as they witnessed the pathetic state that I was in.

          Then it hit me. They were the justification to my unsightly fall.

          I swallowed my saliva and gnawed on my lips. Blocking out the insults they threw at me in the chipmunk voice of theirs was a challlenging task to do. I dug my nails into my palms as I attempted to cope with the suffocating feeling swallowing my pride from inside out. A crowd quickly formed. Their mumbles and hushed whispers did not make the situation any better.

          Calm down, Haera.

          All you should do is pick up your textbooks and your muffin, walk away in a straight confident posture without looking back. Remember, never look back. Unless you're going to cast an ugly scowl at them. Yes, just like that. Reach your hand and grab your textbook—

          “Ah—“ I yelped in pain as I felt a shoe – for which I realized was a six-inch red stiletto – step on my hand. I forced myself to blink away the hot tears that was forming in my eyes. I refused to appear as if I was affected by their actions. Yanking her heel off my hand, I grabbed the nearest textbook and sighed in utmost relief.

          Nonetheless, fate seemed to condemn me. I turned to my right and caught the sight of the group of girls stepping on my Chemistry textbook, trampling on it, dirtying it. They were laughing and having their time, ruining the pages of my textbook. 

          Anger simmered in me and I was vexed. I could not understand the justification to the whole situation which made me clench my teeth in indignation. I wanted to prove to them that they have found the wrong person to mess with.

          I collected my composure and stood up, only to be greeted with Jung Naeun's face. Perfect, I recognized her to be Jongin's crush. “Hello,” I meekly said, then plucking my courage once I was faced with her twisted smirk. “Perhaps if you, the well-known promiscuous and shallow cheerleader, have any requests for me? I would gladly spare my precious lunch time to listen to your words – I mean scraps. Oops, my bad.”

          The crowd broke into loud mumblings and whispers which cuts through the tension between Naeun and I. I watched as she furrowed her eyebrows, narrowing her eyes at me. I was beaming inwardly in satisfaction whilst the feeling of triumph crept into my heart. Every cell in my system was pumping with courage for I knew I had the upper hand of language here.

          “Why are you barking? Spend some time and look at yourself in the mirror," she sneered. "I feel like throwing up at the sight of you.”

          Without any warning, she raised her arm. I shut my eyes closed instinctively, preparing myself for the worst before I felt her slapping on my cheek. I placed my palm on my stinging red cheek, looking at her in disbelief. Was she going physical on me? The burning sensation on my cheek was nothing compared to the humiliation I was experiencing. Yet with this painful action, it was an inviting ticket for the crowd to get even louder with their exchanges, chanting for her to hit me again.

          “Slap her one more time!”

          “Go Naeun! Way to go!”

          A twisted smirk played on Naeun's lips when she received the overwhelming response, as she derived great pleasure from the attention she was receiving. I could tell that there was adrenaline surging through her insides for she felt superior over me – the cheers for her justified it all.

          “Don’t you need a license to be this hideous?” She snickered, giving me a judgmental look from head to toe.

          I winced at her insults, stomach churning in discomfort. I was not prepared to be confronted with my dull appearance. Surviving high school in tranquility for the past two years, the most that I have received were hate letters and baleful looks of abhor. Other than that, I was not subjected to bullying or any form of physical trampling. I thought being ugly was not an excuse to be bullied.

          Nontheless, I found myself agreeing with her words. I was