Thirteen-year-old girl
sits at the end of a
long, white table
for study hall.

Little jabs behind her
that feel like light pokes
(without the lingering,)
and sounds of
paper balls
falling
on the floor.

A small breeze past her left side
and the scent of pine
and deep spice.
A tall, dark-haired boy
with prematurely defined arms
and black sweat pants
stands in front of her.

She makes no eye contact
and finishes her math equation.
"You have something on your face,"
sounding smirked and cut;
walks away
leaving an afterscent
of pine
and deep spice.

A perfectly timed glance
through the side of her eye
to the clock on the wall
across the room,
and she walks to the girls' bathroom.
The mirror reveals nothing
but her face;
eyebrows
eyes
nose
lips
ugly.
 
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