THE ARCHIVES: Chapter 320


I imagined how it would go
once the guidance counselor
called Lindsey in.
Her eyes would narrow to slits.
She would know it was me who said something.
She would pull her sleeves
over her hands
until just the tips
of her fingers stuck out.
“Your classmate is very concerned
about you, Lindsey,”
the guidance counselor would say.
She would start writing notes.
Lindsey would pull a long string
out of her ragged sleeve,
wrap it tight around
her index finger, glaring.
“She hates me,” Lindsey would mumble.
Her voice would increase in strength.
“You don’t even care about me.
You’re paid to pretend
to care about us.”

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