On Oliver's first day of kindergarten, the teacher had sat him down on the mat next to a group of giggling girls.

'This is Oliver' she had said to them 'it's his first day, so make him feel welcome, OK?'

She had then hurried off to break up two boys wrestling over a fire truck.

The girls stared at Oliver, making him shift uncomfortably.

'Your shoe has a hole in it' one of them said, pointing.

Oliver looked. His father had bought the shoes for his first day, but they were already coming apart. His blue sock covered toes were visible through a split seam at the end.

'Who got them for you?' The girls were all now staring at his feet. One of them giggled at Oliver's toes curling up.

'My dad' Oliver had said.

'I bet he got them from that place where we drop our old clothes' one of the girls whispered, loud enough for him to hear.

His father had been pleased at the time that they had found a pair in Oliver's size, but the girl made it sound like they had gotten them from the dump.

She was wearing a cream shirt and floaty lavender skirt that clearly didn't come from anywhere near where his father shopped. Her soft pink tights ended in a pair of polished black shoes, and her blonde hair was styled into two pigtails and held in place with a sparkly purple headband.

And it was all capped off with a disgusted sneer as she took in his footwear. She wrinkled her nose, as though Oliver had trod in something.

Oliver shuffled so his feet were hidden, which caused the entire group to break out into fresh giggles.

One of the others whispered into the sneering girl's ear.

'Settling in well?'

The teacher had come back after providing one of the boys with an ice cream truck. She looked down at Oliver expectantly.

'Everything OK?'

Silently, Oliver nodded.

Later, it was painting time. The teacher had told Oliver to paint 'My Family', before rushing off to stop the two boys sword fighting with their paintbrushes.

She had only given Oliver brown and grey paints, the grey pot of which was empty.

Still, Oliver was able to produce a passable portrait of their house, their empty garage, the tyre swing, his and Emily's scooters, the front bushes which the neighbours kept asking his father to trim, and the old bird bath.

For his father, Oliver had painted a stick figure. For his sister, a smaller stick figure with a triangle skirt. And for himself, a small blob which could have just as easily been a raspberry bun. Remembering what his father did after every painting, he added in large letters in the bottom corner 'OLIVER'.

He went to go get the teacher to hang it up. She was busy keeping an eye on the two boys, as they sullenly sat in front of easels. It was when Oliver glanced around the room that he noticed the same group of girls crowding around his painting. The sneering girl had a dripping brush in her hand. One of the girls noticed Oliver looking and whispered to the others. They all hurried back to their own easels. The sneering girl met Oliver's eyes for a second and a smirk briefly flashed across her face. Then it was gone, and she settled herself in front of her easel as though she had never moved.

Filled with dread, Oliver ran back to his own painting.

A slab of garish pink now smeared through the house, mixing sickly with the brown. Someone had taken red paint and ran it through the tree and tyre swing until it resembled a tomato sauce sandwich someone dropped on the ground. Oliver and his family were now nothing more than slightly sparkling mud as someone had painted through them with glitter.

Scissors had then been used to slash the whole thing into ribbons. Other pieces had simply been torn off. The only thing remaining was a now slightly dripping OLIVER.

'How's it going?'

The teacher looked over Oliver's shoulder, and her expression clouded.

'Hmm...' she pursed her lips and looked down at him.

'Oliver?' she said gently 'I know kindergarten can be scary, but you have to try and participate properly'

'But-' Oliver tried to protest but was cut off.

'You can't just ruin your own paintings. I'm sure your father would've liked to see it'

'I didn't-'

'I'll get rid of this for you. Why don't you go watch one of the other kids, and we'll keep this to ourselves'

With that, she ripped the remains of Oliver's painting from the easel, crunching it into a ball.

'You go and watch Hannah' she said, then called out 'You don't mind, do you Hannah?'

'No' the sneering girl called back, her face now a perfect smile.

But after the teacher had shooed Oliver to her side, it twisted into an evil smirk as the girls around her barely smothered their laughter.

'You must live in a hole' she said 'if your Dad buys you shoes like that'

'That must be why he wrecked his painting' one of the other girls sniggered 'He's got nothing nice to paint'

Anger flared in Oliver.

'We live in a house with a garage and a swing' he began hotly 'and you know that because you- '

'Whoops, move' another girl pushed past him, knocking him to the floor and making him drop his brush.

The girls shrieked in laughter and one cried out 'Look out, Sophie. You've got germs now'

Sophie snorted and made to reach out to the other girls who squealed and ducked behind their easels.

Hannah had just added the final touch to her masterpiece. An enormous pink and glitter castle reached towards a bright blue sky. A figure of herself stood on a wide green lawn, blonde hair flowing.

'I couldn't fit everything,' she complained 'there's no room for the pool or the stables'

'It still looks really cool' Sophie said, gazing at it 'Better than his anyway'

She pointed at Oliver, and Hannah looked down at him as if noticing him for the first time.

'Anything's better than his' she scoffed 'He probably doesn't have a house to paint'

She unclipped her painting from the easel. As she held it out in front of her, she spoke down to Oliver.

'You see, my father actually cares about me and doesn't make me live in a hovel or wear dirty old shoes. And I actually like to paint my house for him. But you're so- '

But what Oliver was, he never found out, because at that moment Hannah's hard leather shoe landed directly on top of Oliver's paintbrush.

Her smirk hadn't even completely vanished as her foot shot backwards, sending the brush skittering across the floor. She herself went flying forward onto the ground, to land with an unceremonious wet splat on top of her masterpiece.

There was a second of frozen silence.

Then, like the sound of an approaching hornet, a scream slowly welled up out of Hannah until she was howling like an alarm bell.

The teacher was there in an instant.

'There, there, come on, sit up' she said in a soothing voice.

But as Hannah slowly sat up, her painting came up with her, plastered to her front.

The teacher carefully pulled it off her. Maybe she hoped to salvage it, but as it came off, it was clear it was beyond saving.

Hannah's pink palace had become a wet splat. Her cream top was now a pink and glittering mess. Her lavender skirt was splattered with green, which dripped slowly onto her tights.

Her hair and face were completely covered in sticky bright blue.

Hannah's mouth was now hanging open in shock, reminding Oliver vividly of a trout he once saw at the supermarket. She blinked slowly, taking in her ruined clothes.

Everyone stared. One of the boys sniggered, and his neighbour snorted in return.

And suddenly the whole class burst into howling laughter. The two boys sunk to the ground, clutching their stomachs and wheezing. Even the teacher tried to unsuccessfully hide a smile.

'Don't worry' she soothed 'We'll get you cleaned up and- '

But Hannah pointed at Oliver with an accusing finger.

'He made me trip!' she wailed 'He put his brush out and made me fall!'

'Now Hannah' the teacher said firmly 'You can't go around accusing people like that. Especially on Oliver's first day'

'But he was jealous of my painting and- !'

'I saw exactly what happened' the teacher said sternly.

Hannah quickly closed her mouth and looked nervous.

'You tripped by accident, and Oliver wasn't anywhere near you'

'But- '

'I told you to look after him, and here you are trying to get him in trouble. I'm disappointed in you.'

She heaved Hannah to her feet.

'Since you can't behave maturely, I have no choice but to take away your painting privileges for the rest of the month. Now come along and get changed.'

She pulled a protesting Hannah into the office, who later emerged in a ragged green top, at least three sizes too big for her.

The other girls clustered around her, as the teacher came over to Oliver.

'Sorry about that, Oliver' she said 'Are you OK?'

'Yes' Oliver replied, then saw Hannah. She was giving him a look of murder from the other side of the room

'I think'

But he wasn't.

Over the next seven years, Hannah had made it her personal mission to make Oliver's school life a daily hell with the all too willing help of her gaggle of friends.

One day, Oliver had arrived at school to find his desk glued shut. The caretaker had had to come and pry it open.

Another day, Oliver had come back from break to find his bag full of water, dripping slowly onto the cloakroom floor. It had taken a week for his books to dry out.

Other days, his pencil case went missing, only to turn up halfway down the boy’s toilets.

And every time, there would be no way to trace it back to Hannah and her pink clad giggling gang.

But Oliver knew. He could see it in their grins when he discovered their latest work, or in their innocent expressions when a teacher demanded someone come forth.

Not that anyone would.

It was no secret that Hannah's gang didn't like him. And no one wanted to risk their ire by being seen with him

Jacob was the only friend he'd managed to make. No one else wanted to hang with the 'weird kid in the back'.

So, when Hannah and her gang went about their business, they looked the other way. And when they laughed, everyone else laughed with them.

That was school.