All my friends were starting at the same school. We'd been at the small adjoining intermediate for the past two years and a bunch of us were set to be in the same class. So I felt pretty secure. Confident. I showed up about half an hour early to see everyone and hang out on the wall, as you do.
I had finally persuaded my mum to get me a new uniform and, following the trend at the time, my skirt was long and my sandals were the black strappy kind, not the boring navy Romans I'd had previously. With newly pierced ears as well, I liked how I looked. My friends... did not. They told me. I was a sell-out; I looked too much like the cool kids.
As far as stories of high school go, this is pretty tame. The mocking was gentle. I actually loved the first day and I still love these friends.
But I remember it all these years later, and the point of this story is this: being made fun of for looking cool is still being made fun of for how you look. ▼