It's funny how the shortest of incidents can hurt you so much. When I was twelve I went to a music camp up north, a place that was like a safe haven for me, or so I thought. For most of the day we were in grueling rehearsals (about six hours) but after dinner we were allowed to do what we liked. There was a a recreation room under the dinning hall where few people liked to spend this glorious window of time so it meant that my friend and I had most of the room to ourselves. Mostly. As we played with the air hockey table that needed the puck replaced with a rolo, a group of older boys watched us. All of a sudden one of them came up to me and my so called friend giggled a vanished to the other side of the room. Then he spoke, 'you're hot!' he told me as I stood speechless in front of him. I turned to go but as I did he delivered the worst insult of all, the worst hurt. He drew his hand back and slapped the seat of my pants, laughing along with his friends, oblivious to the tears that filled my eyes.
A little while later my mentor found me sitting on my bunk in tears, shivering from anger and humiliation. When my cabin mates retold the entire thing to her, she asked who it was, but all I could remember of him was the checked shirt he wore.