“I hope you die a virgin!”

In the fraction of our passing, I damage him without care. For too long, I have tolerated him, ignored his insults with grace. But I needed him to know that I can spit venom too.

While I stood there, parting the student body like a stone firmly planted amongst a river, I watched him walk away. My smile couldn’t be any wider than in this moment.

But as my tormentor walked away, he continued his stride forward as if I was never there. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes were cast down, and his cheeks were puffed and reddened.

“He’s been like that all morning,” a voice says to me. An aquaintance who has many classes with him. “I don’t know why he’s like this, but rumors have been flying around like there’s no tomorrow.”

“What kind of rumors?”

“People are saying that his father passed away in a car accident. The car was flipped over in a ditch and the authorities took way too long to get there. Died before the ambulance even got there.”

The warning bell rings, and the flow of students turns from a gentle stream to a harsh current. Impatience knows no bounds, and I am shoved away.

“That can’t be true, can it?”

“You never know when things like this spread.”

The acquaintance walks away fast enough to not be dragged into my own self-shaming. I am alone in my realization, alone in my mistake.

Maybe, at least for today, I should save my venom for when I truly need it.