I was just about to lose my lunch when I feel an arm snake around my waist, and someone else sit beside me on the bench. Strange, I think, the bullies in this little town usually begin by throwing my stuff in the trash and knocking me around a bit.

“It’s OK Jackson, those girls abuse everyone,” says a soft voice behind me. Turning around, I see several girls I don't know, along with my best friend and neighbor Deanna with her arm around me.

“Are they always like that?” I ask, putting my head back on the picnic table.

The blonde girl on the other side of me says, “Usually they are much worse, you just run faster than they do, you were halfway across the yard before we could even get up. By the way, I’m Heather.”

“And that’s Gwen, Molly and Stephanie,” says Deanna.

“Why would they want to pick on me?” I whine. “Isn’t it enough that the soccer players seem to think I’m a punching bag?”

“It’s the green monkey syndrome,” says one of the other girls, “If you take a monkey from it’s tribe, paint it green, and then return it to it’s tribe, all the other monkeys will pick on it, even if it was an alpha monkey before. They pick on anyone who is different.”

“But, I’m no different from any other chubby dweeb? Why would they start calling me names like that?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know Jackie,” says Deanna. “We weren’t close enough to hear what they were saying.”

“Deanna!” I yell, sitting up. “You promised you were never going to call me that at school! I don’t really know those girls, how do I know that won’t get around the school by the end of the day. I’m finished!” I moan as I slide under the table.

“I’m sorry Jackson, but I promise they won’t tell a soul, we’ve all been hassled by those same girls and I know they wouldn’t want anyone to give them more ammunition for them to be tormented by. We’re all members of the ‘Itty Bitty Titty Club’, it was something those girls would harass us about, but we’ve come to take that as our club name with pride so they can’t hurt us with it.”

“That’s what they said I was part of now,” I say, as I desperately try to melt into the concrete. At least I don’t feel like I’m going to upchuck now. “Did they follow you over?”

“No, Tiffany and her court of jesters don’t believe in exertion, you’re safe,” says Heather. “We’ve got some time yet before lunch ends, want to come join us?”

“Fine. Why not? It’s not like I would start getting bullied by sitting with the girls.”