When I was in grade school, I was not popular. This was mostly my fault; I was short, fat, and wore glasses; I was younger than my classmates, having skipped a grade; I had transferred back to my neighborhood public school after three years at a private school and was perceived as stuck-up; and I was generally not easy to get along with. I probably also had undiagnosed depression, which didn't help matters.
One of the fun things to do, when I was in 5th grade, was to steal my bicycle.
The first one that was stolen was my fault, I admit: I was in a hurry and just ran the chain through the front wheel. When I came out after class, the wheel and chain were there; the rest of the bike was gone.
The second one I made a point of locking through the back wheel and frame. Until the day I came out and the front wheel was gone.
The third one, I got a longer chain and always wound it through the front wheel, the back wheel, and the frame. Until the day I came out and the handlebars and seat had been taken.
After that, I gave up and walked to school.