He snapped my bra strap.
I was a "young bloomer." Marvin had been picking on me since he started school at the beginning of the 5th grade. By the end of that year, I had started to develop, and my Mom decided it was best for me to get a training bra. It was too late. Kids were already picking on me for my budding chest, calling me "Kleenex" and accusing me of stuffing my bra. The torment was neverending. Boys drew stick figures with huge boobs on my books and in my locker, "accidentally" hit me in the chest with things, dripped paint on my chest in art class, and tried to drop things into my shirt.
One day, Marvin snapped my bra strap from behind. I had had enough. I grabbed a handfull of peas from my lunch tray and smeared them into his face, up his nose, and in his ears.
I was made to clean the lunch room while everybody laugh