Washed up

Running toward my class teacher Mr Musa as fast as I could, he just called my name Haneefa Kamil to come forward for my end of term result like everyone else. He was standing in front of the classroom while some students were sitting, others standing singly and in groups. Those who have collected theirs were either jubilating or sad. A particular student was crying softly with her head bent over her desk. I wish I did well I thought to myself. I got to him panting and stretching my hands forward to collect my result. I looked so little in front of him as he was about 6.2 feet tall, dark in complexion and have those eyes that seem to see through everyone. He looked at my result then straight at me and said in wispers, Haneefa you can do better than this. I already knew my result wasn't too good, I looked at the floo in fear and shyness as I collected my result sheet while saying thank you sir. I then walked swiftly away to a corner at the end of the classroom. It was our first term in Junior Secondary School (JSS1) and I was only 10years old. I was a little fat, and taller than most girls my age. I had mild autism which manifested after the loss of my Dad some months ago. looking at my result, I couldn't control my tears and I just let them flow. Other students were talking in groups and some of the others crying like me had friends who were cheering them up but I was left alone since I never had any friends.