So How Was Your Day At School?

Heart breaks at the beautiful little boy off by himself,
lone desk screaming "Issues!" Inches from
the nearest group of kids, might as well be a mile.
They know he's different, remind you, in case 
you hadn't figured it out. When the office buzzes, 
asking me to send him, they assume he's in trouble.
(He is, but not the way they think.)
When he returns, he quietly declines 
the writing assignment in your hand, 
sits down at the computer, standard fix.
He's too aggravated to do the work, he says, big word
for his age. (Don't ask questions you don't want
the answer to...I remember this too late.)
"Why?" I say, and should've stopped there.
"I had to talk to the police." 
Before I could stop it, a second 'why' escaped.
"My cousin did gross things to me," he says, staring at the screen,
deftly maneuvering brightly colored cars with the mouse,
cars with locks on the doors so no one can get inside.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2012