I was just about to lose my lunch when I feel an arm snake around my waist, and someone else sit beside me on the bench. Strange, I think, the bullies in this little town usually begin by throwing my stuff in the trash and knocking me around a bit.

“It’s OK Jackson, those girls abuse everyone,” says a soft voice behind me. Turning around, I see several girls I don't know, along with my best friend and neighbor Deanna with her arm around me.

“Are they always like that?” I ask, putting my head back on the picnic table.