'Look everybody, look at his eye!' I look, at his face, his contrived, forlorn expression. Yet the class sees only the bruising.
'We don't hurt each other like this, do we?' She looks at me. Fire clambers up my neck, ****** my chin and gathers, finally, in the ***** of my cheeks, where it blazes.
The mouth-shaped bruise on my arm tingles, teeth marks still ******. I roll down my sleeve, too proud to be considered a grass.
Later, she wants to talk, but I can't for crying. And I hate when she tells me, 'Just don't do it again.'