The Boy That stayed

Chapter Three- A Different Beginning

Middle school was supposed to be different.

At least, that was what I told myself.

I remember standing outside the school gates on my first day, holding the straps of my backpack tightly as students moved around me. Everyone seemed to know where they were going. Some were laughing with friends, some were complaining about their teachers, and others were already making plans for lunch.

I stood there alone.

For a moment, I wondered if I should try again.

Maybe this time I could make friends.

Maybe this time people would be different.

Then I remembered everything that had happened before.

The laughter.

The whispers.

The fake smiles.

The way people could make you feel wanted one day and unwanted the next.

So I pushed the thought away.

I walked through the gates.

And I decided I wasn't going to need anybody.

Middle school was bigger than my old school.

The hallways were always crowded, the classrooms were noisier, and there were so many unfamiliar faces that sometimes I felt like I was invisible.

I didn't mind.

Invisible was safe.

Nobody could embarrass you if nobody noticed you.

Nobody could betray you if you didn't give them anything to betray.

So I kept to myself.

I attended my classes, took my notes, answered questions when I was called on, and went home.

I wasn't completely unhappy.

I had Mum.

She was enough.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

Every afternoon when I got home, she'd ask me about school.

"How was your day?"

"Fine."

"Did you eat?"

"Yes."

"Anything interesting happen?"

"No."

She would usually look at me for a few seconds, like she knew there was more.

There always was.

I just didn't know how to say it.

The truth was, I had become afraid of friendship.

Not people.

People were everywhere.

Friendship was different.

Friendship meant trusting someone.

It meant telling them things you wouldn't tell anyone else.

It meant letting someone see the parts of you that you tried so hard to hide.

And I didn't want anyone seeing those parts anymore.

So whenever someone tried talking to me, I was polite.

But distant.

"Hey, Maya."

"Hi."

"Did you understand the assignment?"

"Yeah."

"Can I see yours?"

"Sure."

And that was it.

No conversations.

No invitations.

No attachment.

I had perfected the art of keeping people at arm's length.

Sometimes I wondered if anyone noticed.

I hoped they didn't.

There were still moments when I felt lonely.

I hated admitting that.

Sometimes during lunch, I'd sit by myself and watch groups of friends laughing together.

I'd watch them steal food from each other's plates, complain about teachers, argue over stupid things, then laugh five minutes later.

I would wonder what it felt like to have that.

To have someone who automatically saved you a seat.

Someone who would notice if you weren't in class.

Someone who would text you just because they were bored.

I wanted that.

I just didn't trust it.

So I stayed where I was.

Alone.

It was easier.

One afternoon, something happened that reminded me why I'd made that choice.

I was walking down the hallway when I heard laughter behind me.

I didn't turn around.

I kept walking.

Then I heard my name.

"Maya!"

I stopped.

A girl caught up to me.

"Hey, wait."

I turned.

She smiled.

"Can I ask you something?"

I nodded.

"Do you know where the science lab is?"

I pointed down the hallway.

"Second door on the left."

"Oh, okay. Thanks."

She smiled again and walked away.

That was it.

A normal conversation.

Nothing strange.

Nothing cruel.

But I spent the rest of the day wondering whether she'd been laughing at me before she called my name.

I hated that I couldn't simply accept a normal interaction for what it was.

My mind always searched for the hidden meaning.

The joke.

The insult.

The trap.

Maybe that was what the past had done to me.

It had taught me to look for danger even when there wasn't any.

At home that evening, Mum found me sitting on my bed.

She knocked lightly before entering.

"Can I come in?"

I nodded.

She sat beside me.

"You seem distracted."

"I'm just tired."

She smiled.

"You always say that."

I looked at her.

"Because I am."

She laughed quietly.

"Okay."

There was a pause.

Then she touched my hair.

"You're growing up so fast."

I looked away.

"I don't feel grown."

"You don't have to."

She smiled.

"You can still be my little girl."

I smiled too.

For a moment, I wanted to tell her everything.

I wanted to tell her that sometimes I felt like I was surrounded by people and still completely alone.

That I wanted friends but was terrified of needing them.

That I missed the version of myself who didn't think twice before trusting someone.

But the words stayed inside me.

"I love you, Mum."

She looked surprised for a second.

Then she smiled.

"I love you too."

She kissed my forehead and left.

I stared at the closed door.

Maybe some things were easier left unsaid.

A few days later, I was sitting alone in the cafeteria.

I'd chosen a table near the window where I could see outside.

The noise around me was overwhelming.

People were shouting across tables.

Someone was laughing loudly.

Chairs scraped against the floor.

I kept my eyes on my food.

I preferred not looking around.

It was easier that way.

Then someone stopped beside my table.

"Hey."

I looked up.

A girl stood there with a lunch tray in her hands.

I didn't recognize her.

She smiled.

"What's up?"

For a second, I just stared at her.

I wasn't used to people approaching me.

Especially not casually.

"Nothing," I said.

She nodded.

"Okay."

And then she walked away.

Just like that.

I watched her disappear into the crowd.

I didn't know her name.

I didn't know why she'd stopped.

She hadn't asked to sit with me.

She hadn't asked where I was from.

She hadn't even said anything important.

It was just two words.

What's up?

Still, something about the moment stayed with me.

I looked down at my food again.

Maybe it meant nothing.

Maybe tomorrow, I wouldn't even remember her face.

At the time, I had no reason to believe that the girl who had stopped beside my table for only a few seconds would ever matter to me.

I certainly didn't know her name.

I didn't know her story.

And I had no idea that I'd see her again.

I simply watched her disappear into the crowd.

Then I picked up my fork and continued eating.

I thought that was the end of it.