The boy was about 5'5, blond hair, and hazel eyes. He wasn't unpleasant to look at, in fact, he was very handsome.
But something about him...was different. Something the other kids noticed and used against him brutally.
They were always shoving him, as they were doing now. "I could stop this," Desdemona thought to herself as she watched in horror, "...If I wanted to...but what would the other kids say? Would they bully me too?"
She looked at her knees trying to pretend that the boy wasn't being abused.
"Poor Tristan," She thought to herself, "What did he do to deserve this? I should really stop those other boys."
She began to rise out of her seat with her fists clenched.
She couldn't do it. She sat back down. She couldn't bear being ridiculed by the others like they did to Tristan.
The other boys, all seniors, seemed to enjoy themselves, ignoring the protests coming from Tristan's mouth.
One the seniors decided to push Tristan so hard that he landed on his stomach, losing his breath when connecting with the floor.
Desdemona gasped as one of the boys raised a threatening foot, about to plunge it into Tristan's side, before a teacher came and broke up the circle.
"Get away from him!" The teacher called as the bell rang, "Get in your seats before I give you all detention."
The teacher seemed very uninterested in the boy gasping for breath on the floor. Desdemona sat in awe as Tristan rose again, gathered his stuff and began to walk to his desk.
He stopped, suddenly, and began to look at his former audience. None of the people who had been watching the struggle paid anymore attention to him.
Tristan shot a deadly look at Desdemona. Knowing she could have helped him and saved him from the humiliation and pain that awaited him.
Desdemona looked down at her knees once more, feeling his hot gaze throughout the class period, ashamed to look into the boys face. Ashamed of herself.
...And afraid, of what tomorrow would bring.