I was young. Too young. So young I can still remember. The first day it happened, my laughter covered it up. I guess I didn’t laugh loud enough, because they kept coming back. I tried to brush it off, like the snow in the winter, but here, there was none. Stolen papers and stolen smiles, everything was taken from me. The searchers were in their cars, at my house, in my school, they scared me. They interrogated me. Because of me, this was happening. I ruined people’s happiness, my happiness, your happiness. Bullies take away from the good things in life. It was so bad that the letters were told to hide. I was the seeker. Ask me anything. Everyday was the same. Question after question. Who was the girl on the phone? What did she tell you? Ten years old and this was happening. What was I supposed to say? That I knew what was going on? Because I didn’t. One day it was name calling by someone whose name the police didn’t even know. The next it was different answers on my test. The day after that, was a smack on the back of my head. It hurt sometimes. I always thought boys weren’t supposed to hit girls, but my interpretation was wrong. I laughed again. This wasn’t normal. It just wasn’t. The notes said to move far, far away. So that’s exactly what I did.