[Buttons.]

A shrill bell resounded, declaring in obnoxious tones that break time was over. In drips and droves my classmates gathered to line up ready to be lead into the classroom, to return to the hustle and bustle of SAT preparation. I felt awkward and stuck out like a sore thumb in the line, large and lumbering compared to all of the girls and indeed, compared to some of the boys, the difference highlighted by the fact that Jake, my best friend, stood a good head smaller than me with his slight, slender frame.

Once inside the bright and airy classroom we divided into our tables, which were supposedly organised at random, a lie which was entirely unnecessary since it was clear to all of what ability each table of children were. Because it was maths I was relegated from my usual place on the 'top' table to take my place in the lower middle, ready to wrinkle my forehead in perplexity at the mystery and muddle that was numbers.

Miss Heather began sketching lines onto the board, spelling out one of my worst mathematical nightmares: long division. Straight away my palms began to sweat as I gripped my pencil tighter, and suddenly my chest felt too tight to breathe. In later years I learned to accept my utter abysmal lack of mathematical prowess but back then I knelt at the alter of perfectionism, and this unavoidable evidence of a lack thereof, evidence of my own stupidity made my throat close with panic.

Unfortunately, as is the way with children, others at my table and at the neighbouring lower ability one loved to crow over any person, who normally presiding in the much sort after high ability end of the room, had to resign this place and join their's for any activity. 'Can you not even do that bit Katy?' Kristin sneered. Her friends Helen and Tim sniggered. I felt my face become flushed and any grip of long division I had had in the first place went flying through the window. This understandably caused Miss Heather considerable frustration, as not hearing their taunts, she was at a loss as to why the skills she had spent much of the previous lesson cementing in my head slipped through my fingers like grains of sand.

After a torturous hour in which I fought tooth and nail not to burst into tears, the bell again sounded, this time for lunch. Again we filed into line, in our supposedly equalising uniforms which did not prevent the caramel skinned Brazilian girl Riana being tormented for her various physical differences, nor my mess of hair or Val's weight being ridiculed.

Arriving in the assembly hall where all years ate together we segregated ourselves, half joining the hot dinner queue, half taking their seats with the children who had brought packed lunches. I joined the hot dinner queue, already anxious about what I could eat that would not blow me up into even more of a blimp. I eyed the various options and in my desperation slewed off my recent phase of vegetarianism, brought about by a desire to imitate Jake. Back then I mistakenly equated size with value in fat and as the sausage rolls looked small, I figured they would do less damage to my already bulging body.

Taking my seat with my tray I was dismayed to find Kristin and Tim already sat at the table I had approached, and unable to reasonable turn around without it seeming like a concious snub towards them, I slid reluctantly into my seat. 'I thought you were vegetarian,' Tim immediately piped up. I shook my head trying to act nonchalant. 'I gave that up,' I said in a casual conversational tone, reaching for my knife and fork.

'So you were just copying Jake then,' pointed out Tim with a sneer. Kristin giggled.
'No,' I denied, face flushing beetroot red.
'Yes you were,' insisted Tim, pursuing the topic like a dog with a bone. 'You always copy Jake, everyone says so, and he doesn't even like you that much. Do you actually think he's your best friend?' he asked with a laugh. I shrugged and returned to toying with my food. When I had eaten a reasonable amount to be excused I returned my tray and approached the table where Jake was having packed lunches with some older boys. 'Shall I meet you outside by the wall?' I asked, smiling at him. Jake visibly blanched. He looked at the other boys, who grinned wolfishly back and said 'I don't think so Katy,' with a small laugh.

My lunch churned in my stomach. The table burst out laughing as I shot Jake a wounded look. He offered me the slightest glimpse of regret before I turned on my heel and fled the room, my plain black school shoes squeaking on the shiny lino floor.

Rushing down the corridor I finally banged into the girls' toilets, taking deep steadying breathes, willing myself not to cry. Despite my efforts to exercise at least some semblance of self control tears spurted down my cheeks. When finally I managed to stem the flow I entered the playground, head held high, and retreated to one of the wooden benches.

Eventually Jake, having finished his lunch, came over and sat beside me. 'I'm sorry,' he said quietly, scuffing his shoes on the gravelly floor. I nodded, an acceptance of his apology. With so few friends and so little charisma I couldn't afford to leave the reflective glow of his. 'It's just it was really embarrassing, you coming over when I was with that lot.' I nodded again, despite how sharply the words stung. I was an embarrassment?

Although I spent the rest of the day laughing and joking with Jake and later Val as though nothing had happened inside I begged and begged the bell to ring, indicating my freedom. When it did Jake and I set off at our usual fast pace to walk home together, given we lived next door but one to each other. Once I reached home I slid my key into the lock slipped inside and slammed the door shut behind me, locking it against the world. Then, dropping my bag carelessly to the floor I hurried into the kitchen, where I filled a plate full of sausage rolls, chocolate bars, cheese, fruit, bread and butter, anything I could get my hands on.

Returning to the living room I relaxed onto the settee, switched on the TV, and I ate my feelings away.