75 Days

There's a difference between being noticed and being seen. I've been noticed my whole life-by teachers who liked my grades, by neighbors who said I was "such a well-behaved girl," by my mother who only looked up from her phone long enough to remind me to keep my knees together and my opinions quiet. But being seen? That's different. That's dangerous At seventeen, I've mastered the art of being invisible in plain sight. I wear my school uniform like armor, I say "yes ma'am" and "no sir" like a script, and I smile just enough to pass for normal. But under all of that? I'm restless.