What I found most interesting was not so much the money but rather the fact that the judgment had been made. The boy had been abused for being gay, for being different, and the school had done nothing to prevent it. This mattered to me, because I remember feeling like that boy must have felt. I remember it like military vets remember sniper attacks. My central nervous system is fried.
Nobody can remove it.
They did it wherever and whenever they saw me. There were at least six of them. Luppi used to call me by antigay epithets in the halls with a look on his face that might have made an SS officer wince. It usually happened in the hallways at school. A cold, hateful look, a snicker, an insult.