My heart was pounding, the strong sound blocking my ears off and blood rushing to my cheeks. 

What's the answer, Mr. Zhang?

I could feel the tips of my ears burn in embarrassment, I was scared. My hands were shaking so bad and I looked around the class, expectant eyes and whispering mouths spilling insults my brain couldn't process.

Can he even speak Korean? Is he a retard?

I looked back at the teacher and opened my mouth but nothing came out my mind blank.

Mr. Zhang?

My head was spinning. Spinning. Spinning. Spinn-

"Germany" 

"Good, Mr. Zhang" and he turned around to finally focus on someone else. 

My heart beat slower now, the sound of whispered conversations and pens scratching against paper filled my ears, my cheeks turning white again. Inexistent insults nowhere near their mouths as they talked about the new fashion show, it- it was fine. I let out a sigh and take my pen back to write down everything the teacher was saying, the small unknown for everyone's eyes torture already forgotten in the back of my mind.