After our research session in the library,
we headed back to class.
I asked my teacher if I could see
the guidance counselor.
“Why?” she asked, pen poised over
a pad of hall passes.
“I want to talk to her
about suicide. One of my friends is…”
My teacher’s eyes grew huge,
and her face became as pale
as a white crayon.
She scribbled the hall pass
with a shaking hand,
patted me on the back,
and ushered me out the door.
She thought it was me.
She thinks I want to kill myself.
I hurried to the guidance counselor.