Enrolment

The students crash into one another,

laughing, swearing, tipping trays,

while teachers pretend not to notice,

hunched over their lunches like crows.

The school smells of custard and bleach.

The head of Year 11 enrols me immediately.

Starting next week then, she says brusquely,

ushering a nosebleeding boy

into her room with an eye roll.

Fighting again, Philip?

For the love of …

I count on my fingers the weeks left

until my exams.

Kelly-Anne says, Will you survive this place?

It’s a zoo.

I laugh.

You know this is how every comp

in the country feels?

She grimaces.

I’m glad I’m not sixteen.

A bell rings loudly and

the corridor is quiet.

The noise is just noise, I say.

I’ll survive it.