She walks into the room with faint circles under her eyes. Makeup doesn’t cover the lack-of-sleep marks.

He walks into the room with a strong scent. There was a party last night. He didn’t bother to shower before class.

She sits down at her desk and rubs her thin, scared arms. She shivers against the open window.

He stands from his seat and closes the window, because he too, is cold with the drugs slow in his system.

She smiles sadly, her thin lips crack from the lack of food and dry air. But it’s okay. She’s losing weight. She’s getting fit.

He returns the smile and goes to sit with the jocks. Pop some pills in class, get high and hit up bro’s a vape while the teacher drones.

She falls asleep on her desk, her thin hair covering her face. She started losing it from the stress of being her.

He comes to wake her up. Feeling sorry for her as the bell rings for class dismissal. He walks her to the bus stop after.

She looks into his eyes.

And together,

they share words…

that neither has said;

“I wish I was good enough.”