There once was a short, chubby girl. She did what she was told, worked hard and was being groomed for a life to follow in her family’s footsteps. All the adults knew she was going to be a brilliant scientist and did everything in their power to expose her to everything she needed to learn. She was going to have it better than her parents ever did.
Academics itself wasn’t the problem – school was easy, doing homework wasn’t a chore. It was *being* at school that was the issue; she was… different. Oh, she tried not to be, tried to smile and laugh off the cruel taunts and the weekly, if not daily, physical attacks. She’d hide the bruises on her legs by always wearing pants, and, really – she had lots of long hair so it wasn’t noticeable that some of it was pulled out.
She was a very good learner – learned quickly that if you don’t want that kind of attention, you simply didn’t do anything different from anyone else, especially if you looked different/not how you should. Be quiet, shut up and do your work.
Then along came the teenage years…
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