She doodles on her hands in class,
Saturn, piano keys, and plants.
Her shirt is too big,
And it bags around her hips,
But she is the girl I want to be friends with.
She sits alone at lunch,
Humming to herself,
But I have the feeling she doesn’t feel alone.
Her hair has tiny braids,
With brightly colored ribbons,
Almost as bright as her smile.
And she rides home,
On a sunny yellow bike,
With the freest smile.
No one talks to her,
As she scribbes into a battered blue notebook.
But one day during PE she disppears,
And the next day everyone is whispering about her.
The girl with the battered notebook,
And colorful personality is gone.
Her foster parents didn’t want her anymore,
So she is living somewhere in Nevada now.
But what they whispered about,
Was the twenty three girls and boys,
Who stood up in lunch,
And told the whole school,
How she saved them.
I bet now,
You want to be friends with her too.