Katya walked home from her school Cherry Grove High, aptly named Cherry Grave by the older pupils. She wasn’t outgoing or a whiz at anything except Geography and wasn’t popular. In fact, she was the downright opposite. She was constantly teased by Natasha, a devil in designer clothes and 4 inch high heels. Natasha could create an injury with the severity of a broken leg just by a few choice words. “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me,” she said repeatedly. It wasn’t true though. Physical injury could heal whereas words can be embedded in your mind for months. She kept thinking when a familiar voice drawled “ Hi Katya,” “Natasha Monroe,” she thought with hatred.