Just a Friend

As told to Devorah Grant

I’m a sensitive soul, both for good and for bad. I’m the kind of person who takes criticism seriously, but also the first person many people call when they’re in distress. And however much I hate to hear when people are having a hard time, most times, if I’m honest, I can help them in some way or other. Which is kind of where my story begins.

I’ve always been a good student, baruch Hashem, and in school, that counts for a lot. My notes are clear and accurate, and before tests, lots of girls ask me for copies and then study from my notes instead of theirs.

Chayala was one of those girls. She was a soft-spoken, quiet student who kind of just scraped by in school. She didn’t seem to have many friends, but she also didn’t seem to try and make any. Chayala often got left on the sidelines, and though I tried to include her, it never lasted long. However much I tried to engage her in conversation, after a few minutes, she was back on the outskirts, and she always struck me as being lonely. I saw her sitting alone and reading, or dreaming at recess, and it bothered me that nobody was doing anything for her.

Often, I thought about ways I could help Chayala, and at some point, I had the idea that maybe she would be happy studying for finals with me, so I went over to ask her. Chayala was sitting in the corner of the classroom, eating her salad with a dreamy look on her face, when I approached her.