The Girl Who Doesn’t Say ‘Hi’

            She walks down the hallways all the time. From class to the bathroom, from the drinking fountain to the library. I see her more than she knows, or she knows and doesn’t care. She smiles in the hallways when her friends walk by. But she doesn’t say hi, not to me at least.

            She has two periods with me; first and last. She’s the first girl in the class at the beginning of the day and the last one in the class at the end. She doesn’t ride the bus; I already checked. I asked all my friends from all the different buses. She gets a ride from her cousin; I found out yesterday.

            She doesn’t notice me. I’m friends with her friends, but when we’re together she can’t look my way, she won’t look my way. It’s not like it’s not obvious I like her; everyone knows. She can’t possibly not know I like her, right?

            She walks with her head held up high; her chin pointed out. Even though she’s only 5’2” she seems taller. Whenever she walks by, the scent of lavender and rose pedals isn’t far behind, and it leaves a trace so you know where she’s been. Her eyes are a vibrant brown. Caramel colored with the swirls of a chocolate milkshake. Her skin is the color of a mocha cappuccino and as creamy as Hagendaaz.

            She paints her nails to match her outfits, her Baby Phat Outfits. Today she’s wearing blue; blue is her favorite color; it’s my second favorite. I can’t get her out of my mind, I go the long way to class just to catch a glimpse of her, or skip out of class all-together just to go to her lunch and ignore her. I think about her; being with her, telling her all my secrets, fears and lies.

            But it doesn’t matter; she doesn’t notice me. She doesn’t even say hi.