At the Wall

I never would’ve thought I’d find myself abandoned my fourth-grade year on a day that it was so cold outside that someone who had been out of the comfort of a building for no more than 0.345 seconds would freeze into a popsicle right then and there. Still, there I was, stepping onto the dark, cracked pavement alone. Usually, at recess, I played with and talked to my friend group consisting of myself and three other girls in my class. But, on this particular day, my head spun in all directions, eagerly trying to find them. That is when I spotted them hovering in the middle of the basketball court-painted pavement, whispering to each other and giggling.

“Guys!” I called, rushing toward them, teal and black tennis shoes light on my feet.

I noticed them look me up and down as the grins on their faces grew bigger. Then, with an unspoken agreement, they pivoted and took off, running in the opposite direction from me. I slowed my pace to a steady jog, my shoes now weighing me down as I tried to comprehend what was happening. They were supposed to be running toward me, not away. 

No, it must be a mistake. Maybe they’re playing a game? Tag? Am I it? I pondered, gaining speed again.

When I caught sight of them, they were on the aqua-colored monkey bars at the playground, swinging from bar to bar, kicking their legs. Their shrill howls of laughter were like a pack of hyenas. Winded, I raced toward them, trying to catch my breath.

“Hey, guys,” I huffed, “why did you run away from me?”

The girls whipped their heads toward me. Their eyes were as wide as planets, eyebrows raised into their hats, and jaws practically on the ground as their bodies tensed. I suppose they didn’t see me coming.

“Run!” one of them yelled, and they leaped away from the monkey bars, bolting across the playground. 

Once again, I chased them, calling out to them, asking what was happening, but I wasn’t stupid. By that point, I knew this wasn’t a game for us, it was a game for them. Fun for them, not for me. They weren’t going to let me get within ten feet of them, and I didn’t have the energy to run all recess. What was I supposed to do, though? What other friends did I have? I didn’t. Not ones that didn’t have other friends by then; people I didn’t know and didn’t have the enthusiasm to meet. They probably wouldn’t want me to play with them, either. 

I heaved a sigh and turned my back on the retreating girls, giving up. I decided to go somewhere I could be alone since I could feel devastation rising from my gut. Soon enough, it would get to my eyes, something I didn’t want the people around me to see. 

“Tag! You’re it!” 

“Hey, no cheating!” 

“Woah! I just fell down the slide, hahaha!” echoed squealing voices around me, crowding the usual hiding spots - the large, blue tunnel slide, the spacious and protected area under the tunnel slide, and the colorful, enclosed tunnel that led to the tunnel slide. No one could pay me enough to go there. Plus, my body was beginning to numb on the playground, exposed to the unforgiving winter wind.

There was one place, though, that gave protection from those gusts; the side of the school. It was where the school walls turned outward into an “L,” and the curve blocked the wind from reaching those who stood behind it. Before I made my way over to the shivering kids praying for warmth at the wall, I glanced over my shoulder at my “friends” strolling along on the pavement in their too-cool-for-everybody way, hardly acknowledging that I wasn’t there.

Tears leaped into my eyes. They didn’t need me. They didn’t even care that I was gone. Maybe they liked it better that way.

I continued toward the wall. Once I got there, I sat down, my back pressed against the gritty bricks, and buried my face in my puffy coat sleeves. Even with all the people around me, no one seemed to notice. Well, except for one person.

Someone tapped my head. I glanced up to see a girl my age and a few inches taller than me, with brown curly hair spilling over her shoulders. She was a friend I made in first and second grade but had grown apart from over the years.

“Are you okay?” she asked in concern. I nodded, but that must not have been enough convincing for her. She lowered herself next to me and stayed there for the rest of recess, saying nothing, but offering her silent comfort.

That was the day that I learned what a true friend was: not someone who I was always with or talked to, but someone who would be there for me and stick by my side no matter what. After this day, I changed from the naïve little kid that I was before, calling everyone I talked to my friend, to being aware of the way I should be treated by the people close to me. It took me over a year to accept that those three girls were no longer my friends, and I spent much of that time trying to earn their friendship back and wondering what I could’ve done wrong for them to treat me that way. Now I’m glad they cut themselves out of my life because I may never have gotten out of that friendship on my own.

From this experience, I have become warier of the people I interact with than I was before, always considering their potential thoughts and feelings before doing or saying something. Furthermore, once I get my heart broken, which I know I will at some point, having this in my back pocket will be useful in helping me cope with the emotions and thoughts that will come with that, which will, presumably, be similar to what I felt back then.

Finally, to the girl at the wall that day, I am forever thankful that someone was there to show me I wasn’t alone. I don’t know what I would have done without you.