When one thinks of bullying, an image is often conjured of a big kid on the playground, sporting a jean jacket with cut-off sleeves targeting a weaker opponent for lunch money, or perhaps the same offender is imagined as stuffing a poor soul into a locker for laughs and high-fives of fellow bully friends.

Reality speaks otherwise, and ones who are victim to it know better. When I was in middle school, I was the skinny kid with bright red hair and an acne problem, and a friend count I could make on one hand without counting the thumb.

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