In the short hallway that led to the principal's office, four doors, two on each side, lined it. All doors were shut save for the one near Damian on his right- Mr. Reeds. “Good luck mane. And keep yo head up.” Frank dropped before leaving. Damian nodded at him through a softened gaze. With no other students around, he could let go. And with letting go, the weight of his ‘relapse’ set in. And it stung.

  “Damian?” Mr. Reed called out. He cleared his throat, and did his best to shake off any overt hostility. He thought.

  Mr. Reed was jotting something down on his notepad. His desk had a three-layer tray of different files in manila folders, each neatly noted with a colored tab. On his other side sat the usual stapler, ornate glass paperweight, and a Chris Bosh bobblehead. Behind him on the dark blue wall was a single poster that read, ‘It’s all about perspective’ followed by a :): symbol. There was more on the poster in a smaller font below but Damian ain’t reading all that.

  The sole window had a view of the small parking lot out front, but was mostly obstructed by a short tree of mostly barren branches. Though it was starting to come back to life with the Spring. Sparse pink flowers dotted its thin branches. A breeze shook it, causing the spindly tree to scratch against the window as Mr. Reed scribbled.

  “Okay, so you’re here again, huh?” He looked up. Damian stood there, in the doorway, stuck on the brink of a response. Mr. Reed waved him in with a face that read He closed the door behind him and took one of the two seats in front of Mr. Reed.

  He leaned back, tapping his pen on his pad, looking at the ceiling. “Hmmmm, I think it was a little after Spring Break last year, right?”

  “…”

  “When you had that big argument with Mrs. Slater. Right after you just got back from suspension for fighting. And we had that talk with you and your mom here in this office. And you haven’t been here since. So, first off, I want to give you your flowers. I see your GPA is up. I haven’t heard much of any complaints. You in better spirits this year, so really man, I want you to know I see the growth… Having said that, can you enlighten me on what happened today?”

  “Man, it’s Mr. Young! He made us do work packets after we went over the homework, and I wanted to listen to music while I work. Like, that’s how I get my homework done. So I’m trying to do the right thing! I’m not bothering nobody! But he goes, ‘ooooh, you can’t do that you gotta follow my rules.’” Damian sucked his teeth.

  “I’m tired of him tryna press me for no reason man!” He laid it bare for Mr. Reed. And in truth, Damian did feel Mr. Young had had it out for him. He’d known of his reputation and made it clear he wouldn’t put up with any disruptions he might cause, even though he hadn’t done anything yet. In fact, in this seeming period of clarity, Mr. Young had taken several opportunities to poke at Damian a lot harder than he would other students. As if the stigma around him justified it, and the newfound lack of fight invited it for someone like Mr. Young.

  “Alright, well listen Damian… Mr. Young is-”

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  “He’s just one ah dem!”

  “Yeah,” Mr. Reed laughed, “He’s one of them. But guess what man? The world is filled with ‘them’. You can’t let him get to you like this, you’ve grown too much. And on paper he’s right anyways. Sure, it’s not a big deal. But you gotta play by the rules. Look I’m glad we’re having this talk about something so minor, honestly, but this is a good example to learn from. Think about all the other times you got sent here man. How many of those times were because you didn’t let something be?”

  “… A few.”

  “Okay, sure, a few.” He taps his pen again.

  “It’s just… I get the rules are rules. But it’s like…”

  “It’s like?”

  “Like in so many little ways there’s like an unfairness with everything- everything. You know? Sometimes it’s targeted, sometimes most people just don’t feel it. But I know it’s there. You do right and you notice it more. I can’t explain it good, but whatever it is, it’s like Mr. Young represents ”

  “…Can you tell me something, Damian? What was it that changed? A lot of kids come through here, and I do my best to help ‘em, but you don’t see a one-eighty like yours too often. So what happened, because I it wasn’t just our talk.”

  “Yeah, well… my mom. I guess she opened up to me… About not wanting to see me fall behind in life. And that she feels bad not being able to protect me from my influences… I just wanna do right by her.”

  The conversation in question was sincerely life changing. They’d shared a cry that night, and he did promise her he’d do better. From then on his mind had been reinforced with the will to graduate, and to trust in his mom. Though old habits die hard.

  “That’s amazing man, I mean that.” Mr. Reed’s sincerity was taken as such, as opposed to pity or condescension. A change he noted in himself in the moment.

  “I’m happy she can be there for you as best she can. She’s still working two jobs, right?” Damian nods. “Well, a lot of kids in your situation don’t have a mom willing to level with them. They’re too busy.” Mr. Reed fell between his thoughts, thinking of all the other kids he talks to whose story mirrors Damian’s.

  “I know. I’m grateful for her.”

  He studied Damian’s face. A hardened face exuding a meek embarrassed energy. He had always been astonished at the kid’s ability to lay it bare. Beautiful or ugly.

  “Well I’m happy for you. And I understand she’s very very busy. That’s why we won’t call her today.” Damian sank in relief with a small fist pump.

  “But,”

  “-there’s two things you’ll have to do. One, if you need to talk, I need you to know you can always come here. I’m busy too, but I’ll do my best to make time if you need it, alright?”

  “Alright. No problem.”

  “Okay, second, there’s a trade school event we’re trying out. The student government organized it. Essentially, professionals in the community are gonna come by, explain what they do, and how they got into it after high school. All I want you to do is show up there, and hear what those people have to say.”

  “… I have to?”

  “Well, it’s either that or a written warning. And your mom has to sign those, but you remember that.” Damian gave him an ironic smirk through raised eyebrows and an exaggerated nod, then switched back to his annoyed face. Mr. Reed just laughed. “It’ll be good. Meet some professionals, some kids you might get along with too.”

  “So what, like they want us to get their kind of job after high school?”

  “N-no, just to hear them out. To learn something. If you wanna learn more about one of those jobs, cool. If not, cool. Just show up, alright?”

  The bell rang. Mr. Reed extended a fist.

  “Alright, I’ll be there.” He bumped it before getting up.

  “Cool man. Mr. Fernandez’s classroom. We start thirty past two, alright?”

  “Cool, no problem.” He left on that note.

  Mr. Reed reached for a manila folder as he finished jotting down what he’d paused to speak with Damian. He frantically read out what he’d been transcribing and hurried to dial a number. He’d been drowning in his work.