There were three of them the first time. I was ten and so were they. They made up a game like the "cheese touch" from Diary of a Wimpy Kid, only with touching me instead. Eventually I told someone and it stopped...mostly. No one ever directly apologized and no one ever got more than a "cut it out" from any of the people who knew. I didn't care. I thought it was over. There were still kids who were mean, as there always are when you're an outcast with very few friends and very large secrets. It wasn't until I changed schools and was so happy to never have to see people again that I realized I'd been kidding myself for four years. Just because they stopped didn't mean it was over.