from Chorus from the Land of Grownups by Donora Hillard

She’s stapled her plaid skirt shut since the buttons shot off.  I want to ask whose glitter press-on nails I found beneath a desk, whose clot of blood I smeared with my shoe in the girls' bathroom. I visited it a few days later. It had dried and flaked, as if scratched by a fingernail.

There's a lesson on how to sit properly going on in the cafeteria.  (Don't straddle.)  There's also a Student Council meeting about ways to get the boys to stop chewing tobacco and masturbating in the lavatory between classes.  They've been writing on the walls with themselves.