Dear Fitzy,

Today I’ve been gone 78 days.

I cried a lot today. But do you know what I did at the end of the day? I smiled. I think it’s the first time in a long time.

But let’s start with the crying. That happened because I was robbed. I never thought I cared so much about my hair until it was taken away. But I guess I could say the same thing about my freedom too.

We have five minutes to shower every day. Now, that’s not a lot, but that’s not the problem. The problem is, we don’t get shampoo. We get a bar of soap that we’re supposed to use from head to toe. My hair is like straw. It’s tangled all the time. My scalp is dry and flaky and aches. I won’t say that today is the day I had enough. Today, I was just an idiot and felt brave.

When we run out of toiletries, we take the empty container to the canteen and are given a full one. Today, I ran out of toothpaste. But when I went, I asked for conditioner. I showed the matting in my hair and told her it was so bad, I was worried I’d have to cut it off. I told her I’ve been doing everything right, and I have. I take the medication. I go to every class. I shower in four minutes and forty-three seconds.

The woman didn’t give me conditioner. But she did say she would help.

She cut it off for me. Not just the matted locks but a lot more. Before I even realized what was happening, the floor I stood on was littered with my dark hair.

I cried the whole day.

But do you know when I smiled? When Sarah, my roommate, brushed out the strands as carefully as she could, distracting me from the pain by telling me all about where she came from—a horse farm in Hampshire County. She told me all about Midnight, her beautiful stallion. That’s what I focused on—horses, all the ones I’ve ridden and all the ones I dream to ride when I’m free one day.

When Sarah was done, I lifted my hand, finding the strands of what’s left of my now uneven hair folded under, forming what she calls a Dutch braid, not like the French one Honey used to do.

I felt taken care of for a second. I felt like a human. I’ll never forget that. I’ll never forget Sarah. And she won’t forget me either. Because we’re going to lead the rebellion wearing Dutch braids. We’re going to get out one day.

I hope I make you proud.

Rebels Only.

Parker

Chapter 13