Maybe.

Maybe you see her. Maybe you don't.

Either way, she's there, always silent, always thinking. Maybe you notice the books in her hands. The titles changing everyday. Maybe you watch her--in her desk, she reads, while the rest of the class half-pays their attention to the teacher, who lectures on, clueless to the ignorance of the students. Maybe at lunch, you wonder where she is. Where does she eat, if not in the cafeteria? Alone, with the teachers, in the bathroom? Maybe a few times you've seen her at band. She looks so much different, playing her music. She sways and her eyes melt, as if they aren't seeing anything at all but the music itself. Maybe it scares you, the way she stares at the cool kids. Maybe it scares you that you know, you can tell, that she hates them, so much, so deeply. Maybe it scares you that she wishes them dead. Maybe you've talked to her, maybe once or twice. Maybe you like her, she's funny and smart, and kind and different. Maybe you wish that you two could be friends, but, you know it'll never happen. You know that you'll never even try. Because she's her, and you're you, and she's different, she doesn't care what they think, but you do, oh so much. If your friends saw you with her, they'd frown. They'd growl and whisper. And you can't have that, can you? Of course not. Maybe you hate her. Maybe for no reason--just because you can. you hate how she gets A's on her tests, you hate how her friends are real, you hate her for her genius. Maybe, sometimes, you wish you were her, but then clear the thought from your mind. Maybe you see her, laughing with that boy. Maybe you can tell that she loves him more than anything. Maybe you admire the way she rolls her eyes, when they cool kids say stupid things. Maybe you laugh when she condescends people. Maybe you see her, with her friends in the hall, and maybe you think that they have it good. Maybe you think that she's strange, that she's odd. Maybe you think that she's perfect. Maybe you think she does all this on purpose, for attention, for the eyes.

Maybe you know the girl in the back of the class.

Maybe you wish you were her.

Maybe you see her, maybe you don't.