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"Hey, VAC boy! Cheater!" someone would yell, and it wouldn't be long before the first onion flew. The onions always came next. Rotten, squishy, and pungent, they were a stinging reminder of his disgrace. Caleb had learned to dodge the worst of them, but there was no avoiding the humiliation. The emblem on his chest was like a magnet for scorn.
One particularly hot afternoon, the sun beating down on his back, Caleb walked the main street, hoping against hope that today might be different. But a group of children, their faces twisted with glee, spotted him.
"Look, it's Heeho!" one shouted. They rummaged in their bags, pulling out onions and hurling them with surprising accuracy. Caleb tried to shield his face, but the barrage was relentless.
"Cheater! Cheater!" they chanted. Caleb's skin burned, both from the emblem and the embarrassment. He bit his lip, swallowing the bitter taste of his pride.
"Maybe one day they'll forget," he muttered to himself. But deep down, he knew better. In this town, once branded a cheater, you were marked for life.
As the sun set, Caleb shuffled home, his clothes stained and his spirit battered. The emblem on his chest throbbed, a constant reminder of the past he could never escape. And though he wished for redemption, all he could do was endure the relentless rain of onions and the scorn of the townspeople, one painful step at a time.