There’s always one kid. In every classroom, there’s that one kid. She never has any friends, at least in that class, and she always sits by herself. She rarely engages in conversation and often sits alone in a corner during recess. Whenever the teacher tells the kids to get into groups of two or more that one kid doesn’t know what to do. She has no partner, no group of two or more. She’s all alone. When the teacher calls on her to answer a question she gets so shaky and nervous from the anxiety that eats her up inside and she sputters out the first thing that comes to mind, even if she new the answer. And when the laughter comes from her idiotic response, it cripples her more and more with every giggle. Any student that tries to make a connection with this kids fails and just walks away thinking that kid is even weirder than they originally thought. The social anxiety eats that one kid from the inside out and as a result she pushes away any contact made in fear of screwing up. However, on the day of the quiz, every pupil in the class is hard at work, accept for that one kid. She just sits there and stares at the question, unable to decompose its words, and reform them into an answer. She sits there, pencil on the desk, hands folded in her lap, looking around the room, as to find some hint to the answer. She pleads with her eyes for someone to take notice, but no one ever does, and no one ever will. This quiz is only ever one question, but it is the question that beats this kid up on the playground, that tells her she’s stupid, fat, and ugly, that calls her the ‘b’ word in the voice of her sister. This question is the one unanswerable thing that keeps her crying herself to sleep at night, it keeps her socially akward and afraid that she’s done something stupid after she’s done it. That keeps her wanting to lock herself in her room and never come out, not even for food or water, in fear of messing up everyone’s lives more then she felt she already has. This is the question that pushed her to the window sill, that gave her a self of calm as she gazed at the ground and realized she would no longer have to answer this question if she just ended it. That one kid in the corner of the classroom, crying because everyone knows the answer to that question but her. Do I know that kid? I am that kid.