We were only Cubs, but on the cusps of graduation we’d been given the privilege of joining the Boy Scouts for a weekend excursion. Though only a few years apart, we were dwarfed by these boys. I’d come for this three day trip with a bag as large as me, and immediately built a wall between me and the others, making every word, every action from that moment a struggle for acceptance.

Somehow two of us had befriended two older boys, one almost an Eagle Scout. As we stomped through the crisp autumn leaves, their presence was a comfort for this chubby, awkward boy. So when I felt a pain like fire on my neck and flamboyantly swatted away what I thought was a tick, my heart sank, thinking I’d built yet another wall.

That day I learned how a tiny match can leave a big mark. I learned about responsibility and the consequences one faces by failing to uphold it.

That’s the day I learned that not all Tylenol are chewable. The pain, the scar, and the shame faded in time, but even now I still remember that bitter taste.