These empty halls cackle with the echoed cacophony of teenage girls
This one, munching carrots for snack—“I’m fat!”
That one waving graded work—“I lost five points for no good reason!”
Sits one dried tear in locker 42
Its secret safely stashed under a leopard print binder.
Cliques are not easily dismantled in Grade 9b
This impenetrable trio needs your platinum-donor-parents at the latest dinner.
On this desk, an impeccably iced birthday cake rests on a decorative doily
She is loved! She is adored! She is everyone’s glorious princess.
On that desk, sulking, face down
A red-ink-infused essay
Teacher’s exasperated cursive-writing shouts
“Please see me about your grade.”
She’s just a C-
With a capital M for minus.
Venture not in the hallowed space of Oh! Miss! Popularity!
Tread not in the shameful shoes of Ms! Oh! Nobody.
It’s high school now, you know
Or back to kindergarten you shall go.