Friendship Counts Even When You're Moving Schools

January 31, 2008
By Chaya Nutovics, Melbourne/Victoria, ZZ

“Friendship counts,” is what my teacher said to me, “ even when you’re moving schools.” Little did she know that was why I was moving schools.
I had no friends. I was uncool, that is why. Amelia told me so, in front of everyone. I had been so embarrassed. I remembered the time when the school counsellor was having a discussion with us when I first entered High School. What would you be when you grow up?

And I had said, “ a writer”. Everyone had cracked up laughing. I never understood what was so funny about wanting to be a writer. I was shocked when I came to this school and realised it was place were people thought writing was uncool. I understood now. In every English lesson we had, people would muck up the class, throw paper at the teacher and scream.

Maybe these kids were once home-schooled and never knew how to write properly? Or maybe they thought writing was a waste of time or there were other better things to do. I once had a friend who I wasn’t sure was a friend. She sounded like she was pretending to be my friend, not really wanting to be. I only found out when she was giggling to a whole group of her friends about what such a loser I was. I wished I had a friend who was there for me even when he/she had not wanted to be.

“Emily, the school-bus is here!” I listened to my mother’s call and hurried out onto the sidewalk in my new school uniform. I had liked it and it was even better than my old one, so I reckoned the kids were nice, just as the uniform was. I hoped so. I sat on a seat nearest to the window, next to a girl with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She didn’t seem to be interested in me, for she was more interested in her book. I noticed it was a book of quotes. I was surprised. Why would anybody be interested in that? “Can I take a look?” I asked her politely.

“Sure,” she said. “Why not?” she was so friendly, If she hadn’t had the book in the first place I probably wouldn’t have spoken to her. My eyes stared at the first quote on the page, "A friend is someone who is there for you when he'd rather be anywhere else."
- Len Wein
“Wow,” I said. “That’s cool.” She stared at me in surprise and then smiled.
“Would you like to be my friend?” she asked me.

“Yes I do!” I said eagerly. We shook hands like the Prime Minister greeting a fellow Prime Minister. The bus continued on its way and our voices rose up and down, talking in excited voices. People were watching us with smiles on their faces but we didn’t seem to notice. Then something horrible happened. None of us were expecting it. The whole bus suddenly jolted and we heard a scream from the driver. All the kids were moaning and clutching at each other. Rosemary, the friend I made was clutching mine. “Are you okay?” she asked me worriedly. “I think I am,” I said with a gasp. I looked at the girl. She didn’t seem to be hurt. We heard sirens and saw a police car. People crowded the streets and the rest of the kids who were hurt were led out of the bus and to the ambulances. “I’m coming with you,” said my friend. “I don’t want you to be alone.” I smiled at her.
“Thanks,” I whispered. I watched the police. They were questioning people about the accident. I saw many people crowding around the stretcher of the bus driver and gulped. I hoped nothing serious had happened to him. At least nothing serious had happened to us. We watched a medical looking person walk up to us. Rosemary clutched my arm and smiled at me, “that’s what friends are for,” she said to me, “I can’t leave you on your own, even if I wanted to.” I was happy. Even though I was hurt I had still made a friend.

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