I’m Not One of Those “Crazy” Girls
“Crazy,” the spiky-haired boy whispered after he’d rubbed his greasy forehead against my blossoming breasts. He and his friends snickered as they ran off. Stunned with fear, I could barely move as my classmates squeezed past me in the bustling hallways of a hellish middle school.
I’d earned this label, and apparently the sexual harassment as a bonus gift, because I’d confided in a friend that I had…