MOOD: Alright, just a little tweaked.

Okay, so day before today was pretty bad. Everything I did seemed to go wrong. I actually failed a class, and the teacher has known me for years and she just passed me with a low D. I still feel horrible, like my morals are somewhat lowered because I need that grade and let the little "over-looking" go unacknowledged. Well, it wasn't exactly over-looked...
She flat out told me, "Becky, I can't let you fail. I can't fail you..."
She loves me that much, that she'd go against her teacher's word of honor, or oath, that she'd give me a grade when we both knew I had earned the F.

That's not even the worst part.

Now, my bewbs are pretty-I dunno- out there? Well, they're big. D:
And I guess people notice this.

Like... A teacher.
Knutson. Yep. K-nutsacklicker-son.

Anyway. I think he's one of them men who's moral standard is low, too. He's approached me and asked me personal questions, "out of friendly curiosity" he tells me. Questions like: "What do you plan on doing after school?" He's not my teacher. And I would over look him asking and just answer my usual, "Art school, probably." But I can't. He tags on things like, "If I was your age," or "You're so young"!
I might just be a little paranoid, but  applecore assures me that when I'm pretending to not look at him, he stares at my chest.
That's disgusting. He knows my age. I'm sure every teacher is aware of it, because I am not too embarrassed to remind them.
Why should I be? (Another time...)
Anyway, the worst part, and don't believe me if you want, but it seriously got weird that same day when my other teacher passed me.

I was walking out of our lunch room. It's where the seniors and myself eat. I wast sent on a trip to get some snackies for someone, I can't remember whom, but I was walking down the aisle to the cafe. The teachers are assigned lunch posts to keep the students in line.
Knutson just happened to be guarding the rooms that the upperclassmen were in.

The learning center gets pretty busy, what with students from all grades slipping in and out of rooms, and you can bump into anyone at any time.

I try to avoid as many people as possible. I don't like being touched. So I weaved my way almost halfway down the aisles when I was passing Knutson. His back was turned to me, and another student came rushing on my other side. So it was Knutson, me, the kid. I would have gotten by by slipping in between the two of them easily...
But Knutson turned...
He turned...
He's a big, big, big man...
Standing some where around 6'6".
His elbow hit my chest, pulled up quickly, his hand was open and his fingers slipped over my breasts...
That's not the worst part.
I laughed it off, apologizing quickly and turned for the cafe again, a blush burning my face. I really hate being touched!

He grabbed my arm with both hands quickly, he giggled nervously... My stomach dropped and he pulled on my arm, moving his hands down from the crook of my elbow to my wrists. I again, very quickly, said it was alright, and no harm done. He let me go. And I felt very dirty. I smiled awkwardly and turned and my escape to the cafe.
Happy to be free of that icky, icky, man.

I ran in with a sickened look and over to my friend Andrew.
Andrew's an alright guy, and I told him everything that I'm typing now.
He was a little disgusted, and said he was sorry for me and that Knutson should be put away...
I could be imagining that his apology and this little incident was all malicious, and he's really a pervert.

But feelings and instinct tells me differently...

Gross, huh? X[