A lump the size of a plum creeps up your throat. In an attempt to breathe you let out a wheezy squeak and your eyes begin to burn. Didn't they know what it was like? Of all people, at least the nerds would sympathize with a runt of the litter struggling to make it upstream with the rest of the herd. As your pathetic whimpers become ragged sobs, you slam down your Biology notes and let your lunch tray clatter to the ground. A ribbon of chocolate milk and a healthy portion of mashed potatoes splash your jeans simultaneously.
A pool of mucus has formed on your upper lip as your nostrils flare and sniffle against a tsunami of snot liquified by grief. A nervous hand grabs your shoulder and jerks you downward. A balled tissue is placed in your hand and you daub and blow and wipe. Blinking away the blear of your now-reddened eyes, you look into the reassuring face of an old elementary school chum.
"Listen," he begins, "you can sit here. Just chill out. We're already nerds, we don't need to be associated with a crybaby."
You fight back the inevitable second wave of tears, but still only manage to choke out, "B-b-but ooh-hoo-waghhh." You follow this elegant turn of phrase by gurgling slightly and clumsily wiping your nose with your sleeve.
"Yes, we're nerds. We know this. We don't, however, need to be reminded of it by total randoms when we're trying to eat our damn Fruit Roll-Ups." This fellow from your past cocks his head to one side, prompting you...