“Here you go!” A bully dumps a milk carton all over Mob’s head. “Whaaaat? You said you like milk, right?” She giggles, and the rest of her gang chimes in.

Once she finally leaves, Mob makes no move to clean up the milk as it soaks his hair and dribbles down his chin. His blank gaze betrays none of his emotions, although Mob’s hurting on the inside.