The next day, Mae Parker started picking on me.

I pulled out a pack of tissues in pink wrapping, and she shouted across the room, "Wow! Everything has to be pink with you, huh? Trying to be Barbie?"

During the big classroom clean-up, I used wet wipes to clean the broom handle while she exchanged winks with the boys. "Uh-oh, here comes the princess syndrome."

Every time we had the seat rotation every two weeks, and I took a break from moving desks because I was tired, Mae's voice echoed in the classroom, "The princess can't move anymore! We need some knights to help the princess with her stuff!"

Her group of boys always joined in, thinking it was hilarious. Each one laughed louder than the last.

Initially, Brian Robinson felt uneasy and tried to stop them. But Mae, unfazed, said, "Oh come on, I'm just joking. Gabrielle just seems too uptight most of the time. I'm helping her fit in better."

Hearing this, Brian nodded thoughtfully. "Gabrielle does have a bit of a princess syndrome going on. Aren't all girls like that nowadays?"

Mae playfully punched his shoulder. "Hey, don't lump me in with them. I'm not like that."

Brian chuckled.

I felt a sting in my heart. Deep down, I knew Brian thought I was delicate, a bit temperamental.

To most guys, I guess liking pink, being tidy, and lacking physical strength is a sure sign of princess syndrome.

One time, I finally couldn't take it anymore.

That semester, I had spent summer vacation exploring historic sites with my parents, and my skin had tanned quite a bit. It had happened before, and I usually just stayed indoors for a couple of weeks to lighten up again, so I wasn't concerned.

After the vacation, I wore a pink shirt under my school uniform. Mae saw it and exaggeratedly raised her voice, "Oh my God, Gabrielle, you're so dark and you're wearing pink? Isn't it a bit much?"

"Seriously, haha, you're killing me. How can you be a princess looking like this? I've never seen a princess this dark! Honestly, you look more like a little black puppy, haha..."

She and the boys burst into laughter. Brian seemed amused too, with a smirk stretching across his face.

In that moment, a wave of embarrassment and helplessness washed over me, causing my face to burn, my fists clenching tight.

Amid their laughter, I grabbed my water bottle and splashed the contents at her face.

Mae was stunned, frantically wiping her now dripping face. Her makeup had started to run.

"Cough, cough... What the heck is wrong with you?!"

I mocked her, "Well, look at you. Coming to school with fake eyelashes, foundation, and lipstick. No wonder you're not a princess; you're here for comic relief, aren't you? A clown, perhaps?"

A few boys frowned and stepped between us, with Brian leading the charge, snatching the bottle from my hand.

"Gabrielle, apologize," he ordered, looking down at me, his brows furrowed, voice cold.

My eyes stung with tears as I met his gaze defiantly. "Didn't you hear what she said about me? She called me a dog."

"That's a separate issue. You've already retaliated verbally. Now you need to apologize for splashing water on her."

"Admit when you're wrong. Be reasonable. Stop being difficult," he said authoritatively. "Apologize, and Mae won't hold it against you."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Apologize? Fat chance."

Brian's eyes widened, and he slapped me across the face.

That day, I decided to skip the rest of my classes and headed straight home. Once inside my room, I tore through the place, leaving my bookshelves, closet, and storage bins in complete disarray.

I grabbed a large cardboard box and started collecting everything Brian Robinson had ever given me, from childhood trinkets to more recent gifts, tossing them in without a second thought. The box was overflowing, and I was confident I'd gathered it all.

Determined, I dragged the box downstairs and dumped everything into the trash bin. My parents hadn't arrived home yet, so I called my mom.

"Hey, sweetheart, what's going on?"

"Mom, when you get home, could you talk to Martin and Victoria and let them know Brian and I are over? Plus," I added sharply, "from now on, Brian's not welcome in our house anymore. I want him to keep his distance."

When my mom got home, her expression shifted to anger and concern as soon as she saw the red mark on my face. I recounted the events of the last few days, and with every word, her anger intensified. Without delay, she marched over to the Robinsons’ door.

Victoria looked stunned as my mom detailed everything—how Brian had slapped me, stood by while a new student verbally bullied me, and even defended that student.

Victoria's face alternated between shades of red and white. Our families had been close for years, but today marked the beginning of a rift because of what happened.

But my mom didn't hold me responsible. Instead, she reassured me, saying, "Gabrielle, we won't let anyone push us around. Whatever choices you make, your dad and I are fully behind you."

Finally, all the frustration and sadness I'd been holding back surged forth, leaving me with a lump in my throat. I buried my head in my mom's shoulder and sobbed.