Myrtle ducks into the bathroom, scrubbing at her face with the back of her wrist. Her eyes were puffy and pink from the tears, cheeks sticky where the tracks have traced their way down her round face. There is a sheen of more tears to come burgeoning at her eyes, swimming on the edges of her lashes, but she hurtles into one of the stalls and presses her face into her hands before they can spill over.
I HATE being the most hated girl in the school! Myrtle kicked her shoes against the bottom of the door, and it shuddered under the impact. I hate having to go to dinner and hearing people laugh at me, and having them throw food at me--even in my own House! It's not fair, it's just not--
The sudden tap of footsteps stilled Myrtle's feet and her choaking sobs quieted to soft little gasps of breath as tears dripped down her chin. Someone was coming down the hallway!