He just wanted a drink but they wouldn’t let him, the fuckers. He’d look up and they’d look away, pretending that they weren’t looking, but he knew better. You don’t own me. You do. They were always looking, waiting, hoping that he’d put the water bottle to his mouth, and then they’d laugh. Look at him! What an embarrassment! He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction, no he wouldn’t. So he wouldn’t drink, even though he wanted to, even though they wanted him to. He’d wait until he was back alone. They laughed anyway.