The New Girl

A ‘Scotch Tape Magic Transparent’ dispenser with a roll of tape inside. ’59 cents ½ x 700in’ is written inside of a crown above ‘Scotch.’

At my new school

some kids barely notice

there’s a new girl in the sixth grade.

Some kids dub me “Miss Perfect,”

act as if I think I’m better than them

which is dumb because I don’t.

Some kids

admire the new girl’s pin-straight hair

and its glossy sheen.

I smile wide and revel in their approval

as they privately

weave long strips

of sticky Scotch tape into my strands.

A box of white Crayola Anti-Dust Chalk. ‘Non-toxic’ is written on top of the box.

Some kids are quiet

shy and weird

and safe, misfits who

don’t poke or prod

but instead orbit

in benign silence.

Some kids write words

in the margins of the chalkboard

when the teacher isn’t looking.

Ugly words, about

how the new girl has buck teeth

from sucking dicks.

But it’s not like I can take

anything personally.

Nobody here

even knows me.

And that sucking dicks thing?

So far outside

the realm of reality,

it’s almost funny

almost.

A drawing of a person on a wrinkled torn piece of paper. The image is focused on their face and is cropped below their shoulders. They have straight hair that is parted in the middle. They are smiling with two front teeth protruding over their lower lip slightly. They wear a piece of outerwear with a collar and buttons over a mock turtleneck.