Personal Narrative: My First Week In California

On a warm, wishful week in August marked the beginning of a new school year for me in California. I had already been through one year of elementary school in this new state and now I was going to fourth grade. Elementary school is not the hardest experience for anyone to go through, but for me, it was the most traumatic and one week was all it took.
At my cheerful looking elementary school, every class had a specific table assigned to them and that was the place they would eat lunch and you were not allowed to switch to any other table. For the first week of school, the aids assigned us each a partner to eat with until we made some friends of our own. By the start of the following week, my partner decided to eat with some other girls. She looked at me with the most disgusted face and said, “I’m sorry but you’re new to this school and you are fat. So, we don’t like you.”
For the first three days, I stayed and ate my lunch in the bathroom, which left only two more days of this awful treatment. On Thursday, I decided to not care about the other girls and sit at my table. Walking with my head held high to the outdoor cafeteria, I reached the red, uneven table with a few spots to spare. Successfully, I sat down on the far end where hopefully the girls could not see me. Next to me were a few boys whom I did not know that well. As I unpacked my lunch, I was shoved off of the table and left on the floor. Not knowing why the boys would do that, I soon realized that the girls convinced everyone to make sure I could not sit anywhere. Once again, I walked over to the other side and sat but before I could sit, my lunch was taken and thrown into a big trash can. In this situation, I knew it was best not to try to talk to them knowing the outcome would be miserable. With the feeling of failure, I sulked back to the bathroom and cried my eyes out until the end of lunch. Luckily, no one found