She is just nine years old. She smells of cigarettes and old clothes. She moves swiftly as if covering not ever dancing not ever gently. She carries dark moons around her eyes which are blue. The sky is charcoal around her it has always been since I have known her. "I am happier inside she tells the teacher", though she has never been happy. "Why don't you come and play" I ask her yet she does not answer. she does not jump rope she does not cry out she does laugh out she does not. She wears crabgrass on her head and her clothes are someone else's her eyes seem borrowed from someone older than her older than anyone. She hides her scars but we can see them she hides them from herself. Today the teacher told us that she was dead. She said her mother was in jail. She said that we would miss her. Somebody made a joke Somebody blew their nose Somebody raised their hand to go to the bathroom. I did not move I did not play I did not raise my hand I did not laugh out I did not cry out I did not know her but I did not.