Harkiran was used to being different. As the only Sikh in the school, and the only person of colour, Ostracism had been a constant friend, and Isolation a cruel and unforgiving teacher. But nothing had prepared her for the aftermath of her pronouncement.

She brushed her hair and thanked God for the gift of Kesh, the long, dark mane distinctive of her faith, which had remained uncut since her birth eighteen years previously. Harkiran’s mother would train it into a luxuriant plait when it finally dried, but in the meantime, she applied her makeup and steeled herself for a final day of abuse and ridicule at the hands of her teachers and peers.

Harkiran looked up at the collage of the ten Sikh Gurus on her bedroom wall. Had they, too, not suffered persecution in defence of what they believed to be right? She touched the thick steel kara around her wrist and prayed for the wisdom of Guru Nanak and the courage of Guru Arjan as she braced herself for the tribulations which lay ahead.

The betrayal was worst. Even Lucas, her best friend since First Year and, much later, her first lover, had turned his back on her, frightened of what the other boys would say. What price loyalty in the cesspit of cruelty her school had become? What price acceptance in a world of closed minds and frozen hearts?

Lucas had been a wonderful lover. Despite his ultimate treachery, Harkiran fondly remembered their many moments of mutual discovery and frequently replayed them in her mind. What had started with stolen kisses behind the cricket pavilion last summer had quickly become more, and her recollection of the first time he entered her remained as fresh and clear as if it had happened yesterday.

Both tasked with cleaning the boating sheds following an afternoon on the lake, Lucas had made it clear that their short time alone together would be better spent in other ways. After several moments of urgent fumbling, Harkiran found herself on her back on top of a workbench, her gym shorts around her ankles, as Lucas finally took her. He hadn't lasted more than a minute before his crisis gripped him, her tightness quickly becoming more than his virgin cock could bear, and he roughly emptied himself into her. At that moment, it felt as though an unbreakable bond had been forged, their mutual devotion consummated in a few brief seconds of blissful abandon, and their love assured forever.

But that was before Harkiran's pronouncement.

As she walked into school, her parents by her side, Harkiran knew it would be for the last time; the gawps and sneers of her former classmates as they craned their necks, the final indignity she would endure. The outcome of the meeting with the Headteacher was assured. Wilkinson's College for Boys had always been cruel to Harkiran Singh Uppal, but for Harkiran Kaur Uppal, all that remained was the door.