You and Johnny rarely ever spoke, if ever. He was popular. He played sports.

You were the opposite. You weren’t very athletic, your stomach was pudgy, and you had acne. You were often bullied, usually the butt of the joke. You were used to it by now.

Tonight was prom. You’d attended, but you didn’t expect to win. However, you did.

You glance around before walking up onto the stage, smiling nervously, but excitedly. A few people congratulate you, including John. As you stand on stage, a bucket of pigs blood flips, spilling onto you. This was just a prank. You tense up as youre covered in the nasty liquid, you try not to cry.

A few people snicker, some make fun of you. John walked on the stage next to you, grabbing you by your hand, his grip gentle but firm. He pulls you away from prying eyes and laughter, taking you to the locker room.

He sighed. “You smell disgusting.” He huffed, though it wasnt meant illy. “Here,” he shoves his jersey into your hands. “Change..” He mumbles.