A Story of Friendship

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Maya Moses, Journalist/Editing Board Member

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No one knew Girl’s name, not even the teachers. She was referred to as Girl, and nothing more. Not Karen or Jemma or Sally or Rachel. She only responded to Girl. She had red hair that went to her knees and green eyes that shone through the darkest of night. She always wore blue boots with silver glitter glue splattered on the sides (a remnant of her glitter princess phase) and a purple hoodie with a hole in the left pocket.  

Living on Maple Street, she lived an hour away from the school, and one and a half away from the nearest town. Isolation like this made her a stranger to everyone at her school. Her house leaned to the east and electric blue paint cracked in the heat. Her family owned an old, rusty jeep with many dents, making it round and unlike a car. 

Girl would sit in class alone, and doodle on the cover of her notebook, erasing drawings that weren’t her favorite in order to make room for the new ones. She would sit on the blacktop and lay out her lunch order from lightest to darkest in color. She was different, there was no argument with that. 

One day as she ate her morning porridge, her mother chimed up from the kitchen. “Darling, you should stay in town after school today. Maybe you could make some friends; they will be important later in your life.” Her mother leaned into the living room to stare at her, red hair bouncing happily. 

Girl rolled her eyes and stood, handing her bowl to her mom. “Friends are for people who can’t manage on their own,” she stated coldly. “Is that what you think of me mother? Can I not manage on my own?” She gave her mother a dry smile and slipped out the door, pulling her patched up bookbag along with her. 

She jumped into the jeep, motioning to her dad to drive. “Hey Junebug, how was breakfast?” Her father rolled his fingers through his brown hair and edged the jeep onto the road with his palm. 

Girl frowned, “Will mother ever stop worrying about me? I don’t need friends, they’d just slow me down.” She crossed her arms and huffed. 

Her father’s forehead creased. “She’s right you know, they aren’t all bad. You just have to make them like you for who you are.” He cut onto the main road, the sun beginning to wake. “You can’t dwell on the past, not for your whole life. You must learn when to move on.” He looked at her, his green eyes shiny and bright. They sat in silence for the rest of the drive. 

School was the same. Cold stares drilled into her neck and she tried to ignore them, but her parents’ words stuck in her mind, making the pain even worse. She sat alone in class, stabbing her notebook. She drew a crying baby, alone and scared on her cover. She felt as though her thoughts would run a hole in her brain. When lunch came, she sat on the blacktop, organizing her carrots, cabbage, and other foods on the ground. As she ate, she thought about what her parents said. You just have to make them like you for who you are. Maybe you could make some friends. She found herself wishing these words were true. She found herself crying, she found the world spinning, words soaking in her brain. She couldn’t speak, her throat dry and cracked. 

“Are you okay?” Girl flinched and looked up. She saw a girl with blue eyes and hair the color of night. She wore a green hoodie with a hole in the pocket, just like hers. The girl sat in front of her and smiled. It wasn’t a cold, mean smile; it was a gentle, warm smile. 

Girl stared. She had never had someone look at her like this outside her own home. She wiped her tears and scuffed her boot on the ground. “I’m okay, thanks.” She managed to look up and smile herself. 

The girl nodded and smiled again, blinding Girl. “I’m Isobel.” She held out her hand and Girl froze. She felt something break inside her, and a warmth bubbled in her stomach. All her worries melted away and she smiled, bright and clean. 

“Amara, nice to meet you.” Amara took Isobel’s hand and shook it. 

Once there were two girls. Everyone knew their names, even the teachers. They are referred to as Isobel and Amara and nothing more. They were best friends, and everyone knew it. They shared their thoughts with each other, and their peers loved them dearly. If you just look up, there is someone that is willing to give you a chance. All you have to do is introduce yourself and you might make a lifelong friend.