There’s a girl in none of my classes that walks the halls, wishing only that she could be sitting in my desk, reading my words and hearing the words that will get her where she should already be. She’s got such a reputation, that girl. She says things people want to hear without regret. She sleeps with the crowds, and doesn't ramble on. She’s to the point, this girl. She is clean in her sin, and respectable in crime. Sometimes as she passes my door, just for a moment, I see in her a misplaced pride. A smirk that she put there, for people like me. The kind of girl she wants to be.