This might be a common story, but when I was in junior high school, we didn't have any classes for about a week, and club activities were canceled too. For some reason, I was the only one made to help out in the staff room with printing materials. I was practically cooped up in the staff room for the whole week, while everyone else was doing self-study in their classrooms. It's not like the thought "Why just me?" didn't cross my mind, but since teachers often asked me to do favors for them anyway, I didn't think much of it.
A little while after that happened, my parent came back from a PTA meeting (which all parents had to attend) and asked me, "Did you know?" Apparently, everyone else in my class had shoplifted. The reason there were no classes or club activities was because they were being disciplined for it. They had done group shoplifting at a shopping center a little outside our school district—everyone except me. I had no idea at all. Or rather, I didn't even know the whole class had gone out together. It's not like I didn't have friends in the class, either. After that, school life wasn't particularly awkward or anything.
More than ten years after graduating from junior high, there was a major financial fraud case. Many of the victims were young, educated people. Through my work, I ended up seeing the list of victims. And right there on the list were the names of my old junior high classmates. I even had the opportunity to speak directly with some of the victims, but not a single one of them recognized me, even though I hadn't moved away from my hometown or changed my last name. "I recommended it to all my friends from junior high. Pretty much my whole class, I guess." "We've known each other forever, so I trust them." "I figured if all my friends were doing it, it had to be legit." After those people left, my ballpoint pen was gone.
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