The New Girl
The new girl is maniacal they told me.
They were bobbing their heads in agreement.
She has fuchsia hair. She acts weird.
She is off-the-record-books-crazy.
Something is definitely different about her.
I began to run.
She is super sensitive. We didn’t do anything.
She is sobbing like a banshee, and …..
No one understands why.
Her eyes are pink. She looks like a vampire.
I encountered her in the dining hall.
Plunked down next to her. I was new too, I tell her.
I reach out and touch her hand.
They are nut buckets, I say. Pay them no attention.
Tell me your story I say.
She begins to sob.
She does not know me.
For all she knows I am just like them.
I sit patting her back for a long time,
neither of us speaking,
both understanding the meanness of this place.
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