Though you’d never admit me to be justified
in saying “no,”
I think you know why I’m doing this.

Too often
I catch you staring at me, wanting me,
but never know how to say
what I have to say.

I walk through halls, the halls of a school. 
It’s a lot different than it was
Just five weeks ago.

I now know quite a few kids now,
They thought of me as the new kid,
The outsider, I don’t know if they still do.

They called her Little, but Little was big. Little was tall, with stooped shoulders and an odd, loping gait. Mostly, though, Little was lonely.

She was like a dandelion in a field of perfectly cut grass—bright and beautiful to some, but ugly and unwanted to others.