We sat around the dirty lunch table each day

a group of girls who secretly are

disgusted

with each other,

but no one ever said anything

about it.

Friends.

And the dean walked by

as one of them

jokingly

told the only black girl

to go back south.

“Go work on your

Plantation.”

She said.

The dean paused in his steps

and looked down at her,

he heard what she said,

no question about it.

He scowled at a girl wearing a tank top,

told her

to put a jacket on,

then walked away

in his fancy suit

as the only black girl

sprinted to the bathroom,

tears bubbling over

her defeated

cheeks