The guidance counselor
brought me back to my school.
The filthy halls
branded with graffiti
felt even more like home to me
than they had been before.
Students I did not know
demanded that I reveal the secrets
of West Campus.
I remained mute as the guidance counselor
ushered me into her office
to inquire about Lindsey.
“Were you happy to see that she’s doing better?”
“Yes,” I lied.
“How did you like West Campus?”
“It was nice,” I lied.
“Good. You might have heard
that the superintendent
wants to turn it into a regular high school
to alleviate some of the overcrowding here.”
Oh, no. I would never go there.