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ROOM 123, I STOOD AT the door, heart in throat. I knocked.
A woman’s voice spoke. “Come in!”
I turned the doorknob. Head bowed, dreads dangled. She lifted her head. Rebelle!
“Welcome, Setaphire. Please, have a seat.”
“Are you my guidance counselor?”
“Yes, I am.”
“For the entire six years, well, not the entire six years. Just for 1,128 days.”
1,128 days, they’re 365 days in a year. I need a calculator. An open folder and binder sat on her desk.
“Does that folder contain information on me?”
“It has written observations.”
I wondered if she had been taking notes on me since the day that I was born. 1,128 days, 1,128 days, I repeated over and over in my head. Even though my comfortableness level had weaned among the folks that I once trusted. I still believed that Rebell
