“You’re not going to remain close to everyone you were friends with in grade school,” my mom gently reminded throughout the summer before my freshmen year. But during my freshman year at Notre Dame, I had remained friends with almost all my friends that I had in 8th grade. When I decided to go back to Jackson for my sophomore year, I thought my best friend and I would remain close. I thought that if we could stay close through the turmoils of elementary school, middle school, and not even attending the same school for eighth and ninth grade our friendship could last throughout high school.
On a Thursday afternoon, a privilege day, kids scuttled around like ants rushing to find their friends. My friends and I planned to meet as soon as the
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Just like all the other times I was with my best friend and her new friend, the only people they talked to were each other. I felt like I wasn’t even there to her, as if in some space of her mind her best friend was absent that day, so she was forced to conversate with someone else. “Can you believe she did that?” my best friend questioned.
“Who did what?” I inquired.
I received no response to my question and the two exchanged a look that would say “who invited her to the conversation” if it could talk.
“Let’s go outside!” exclaimed one of my friends. I became immensely thankful for the distraction. As we walked out the nice, crisp air greeted me and I felt happy to be outside instead of inside a classroom congested with other students. As my friends and I started to walk to our table, I noticed that my best friend was missing. I almost wish I wouldn’t have noticed she was gone until later because when I turned around I saw my best friend walking in with her friend. She didn’t even tell me bye or where she was going, which made it sting even more. It seemed like I wasn’t even worth a one syllable word to her anymore. The next two hours of class required me to hold back my tears and fight the sinking feeling that I had been replaced as her best