Lacey wasn't sure what was going on. Sure she'd been bullied and made fun of but now it was like a personal mission for the other students to harass her at almost every turn. She'd been tripped, grazing her knees, her bag graffitied over with offensive language (that had not been fun, she'd been forced to lug her books around in a huge plastic bag which just brought more sniggers from students who saw it) and even her locker now had the words GO HOME on it in capital letters.
Right now she was attempting to clean it with a sponge, needing it to come off before it got reported to the headmistress. She scowled. What had Lacey done to deserve such treatment? It was becoming harder to ignore it as she scrubbed and scrubbed, her arms tired as slowly but surely the paint began to come off.
"T
