Intro. While attending a high school in a small Ohio town, I faced bullying and my parents' divorce, prompting my move to Orange County, California, with my mother. We hoped that transferring to Ebonhurst High, known for its academics and affluent community, would improve our lives.
However, on my first day, I felt a familiar unease. During lunch, I noticed a boy in the corner with a bruised face and scratch marks on his arms. A taller boy knocked him down, and while his lunch was ruined, no one helped; some even laughed and took photos.
I approached the boy, wanting to offer a tissue, but a well-made-up girl snatched it away, warning me not to get involved with them. cold detachment of the surrounding students made me feel suffocated, as if the polished school facade hid a troubling reality I recognized all too well.
(Although John is bad, he doesn't take drugs at all!! )