The class was roaring. Mark was laughing the hardest of all.The school nurse had to cut her free. She was as gentle as the situation allowed, which was not very gentle at all. When it was over, Claire had a bald patch and a nickname that would follow her through every remaining day of high school.
Patch.
She heard it in hallways. In the cafeteria. Muttered under breath during class. Some of the people who used it were deliberately cruel. Others were simply entertained. But all of them made sure she understood exactly where she stood in the social order of that building.Humiliation of that kind does not fade with time the way people say it does.
It hardens.
It presses itself into the way you carry your shoulders and the way you walk into unfamiliar rooms and the way you decide, very early, what kind of life you are going to build for yourself.For Claire, the decision was clear and quiet and firm.
