The girl forces her way through the crowd

pushes and plows 

until she reaches her round lunch table

She collapses down into her designated spot

throwing her backpack down with a thud

The events of the previous weekend boil over into this new week

The stories twist and turn in her empty stomach

until they ooze over and she vomits them up

Her feet jitter in her muddied boots and her hands flair around 

as she throws words up and out

to all the other girls sitting there

“I know what you mean”

“I totally feel that same way”

“That reminds me of when”

Their voices begin to drown out

Her face drops and even her freckles seem to droop

She stares down at the gruel the lunch serves

as their conversation skims right over her head

Even the mashed potatoes don’t digest what she had said

The foods ignore her tears that drop into them as they get soggier

She rests her tired head down on the cool table top

it eases her flushed face

She can see their voices vibrating the 5 cent juices 

The ripples expanding outwards

Their voices giving more attention to the juice than her