Respected or Feared
Even when I got to class,
everyone still watched me
like I was a bomb that would go off.
I used to be the one watching them.
My teachers acted
like they did not quite trust me.
I heard my name
fluttering through the classroom
in everyone’s whispered voices,
but it was not my real name.
Nobody knew or cared about that.
They called me the Archivist.
They said it like they would say
the Pope, the President,
the Queen of England.
Like I was someone to be respected
or even feared.
Still, I did not see Lindsey
or my crush.
Not even Gary.