Phil and me
sitting around
in yet another unsupervised Study Hall.
Phil’s new to the school
so I’m telling him what’s what.

"That girl there?" I say,
chin pointing

at the only poodle skirt and cardigan
in the hall.
"That’s Yancy.
She’s a slut."

"Yeah?" Phil asks.
"Yeah."
I don’t know that.

I know Yancy from Spanish
where we’d been separated
because we talked too much in class
so we get along
but we don’t get along that well.

But I’d heard tell around eighth grade.

All the boys talked
about how Yancy would put out
though I never quite heard

precisely for whom she had put out.

"Check it out," I say
and call Yancy over.
She comes right away
and I put it to her:
"Do you want to have sex?"

She looks down at me
disappointed
and then turns one eighty
her skirt twirling
leaving me.
I chuckle, nudging Phil
but he says nothing.

I don’t talk to Phil much after that.
I don’t talk to Yancy ever.
I think they date for maybe a week
but I never know for sure.