He put his hand on The Stone Roses Reni bucket hat shirt, and started to rub it in a weird way. He slowly inched up to my thighs. And I smacked his hand away. He kept going. He squished my thighs. He said a bunch of odd things. He said my thighs were squishy. He said I was thick. He complimented my hair and my body as he poked and squished. I kept swatting him away, saying it “tickled.” He kept going. He slid his hand under my jacket and rubbed my back. While he was doing it, I felt sick. He rested his head on my shoulder. I felt horrible. Then, he backed off. It didn’t stop there.
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After that, it was The Stone Roses Reni bucket hat shirt. As soon as the bell rang, I walked as fast as possible to get away from him, but he ran into me at the lunch line. The lunch was some nasty version of Kraft Macaroni. It was watery, slightly creamy. He leaned in close to me and said “I can make you moist.” Even writing that gave me shivers. I said something along the lines of “What? No way,” and I went to my table to tell my closest friends what happened. They suggested I tell someone, and I knew I would.