I was only a wee little thing, six years of age when it happened; tears were shed, blood was almost drawn, and cries filled the thickened air. Today was the day my now former friend had gotten into a fight over a misjudgment. Today was the day they got into a fight over me. The schoolyard was filled with other children watching and rooting for that oh-so beloved popular girl while I attempted to get my friend to stop. What happened before all this, though, is a story yet to be told.

I had been getting my lunch, as per usual, with my friend—let’s call him Scott—and encountered a teensy “issue.” That “issue” being the popular girl, Bry. You see, Bry had always had some type of beef with me. Funny thing is, I can’t eat beef without getting a rash, and this girl gave me hives. She always found a flaw in each thing I did, no matter if it be eating, drinking, or writing. The worst thing about all this was that I had to bear with her all day. She was in every single one of my classes. Speaking of the devil…

“Lunch isn’t for crazy people like you.” a prissy voice piped up as I was delivered a light shove.

“Hey,” Scott interrupted. “Get lost, Bry. You’re just jealous.”

Bry let out a huff as she walked away, leaving Scott and I to walk together in silence to our usual table. The table only the two of us sat at. We ate in silence and waited for the bell to ring before walking to our last classes, which ended up in me waiting for him at the end of school so we could walk home together. As I waited, I could see a familiar redhead bounding towards me like some type of predator. Crap.

“Aw, poor little missy is waiting for her boyfriend~!” she singsonged.

He is not my boyfriend.

“Not gonna say anything? Say something, you f***!”

Just breathe; it’ll be okay. Scott will be here.

I was given a harsh shove before I heard someone bellow, “HEY!” Thank goodness Scott was here. I know I should be standing up for myself, but what am I supposed to do? I don’t want to hurt Bry, even if she does get on my last damn nerve. As said by many activists, “Violence is not the answer.” I watch Bry sashay away, running to her boyfriend. God, how I hate middle school.

A couple weeks had passed since that incident, and Bry was nowhere to be seen. Though, something was kind of wrong with my friend. Scott was a simple tall teen, wearing checkered shirts with beige jeans while his shoulder-length dreads rested on his shoulders. Bry, on the other hand, was a redhead with a pinkish face absolutely covered in makeup, wore frilly skirts with crop tops, and always bought the newest shoes.

“Why don’t you stand up for yourself?” he suddenly asked me.

“I don’t want to answer that,” I thought.

“Hello??” Scott singsonged.

Suddenly, he stopped walking and I saw his eyes narrow menacingly as he huffed. I follow his gaze and end up looking at the oh-so popular girl, Miss Bry Lockshire. She sashays—which honestly seemed like her favorite thing to do—over to us with a mysterious glint in her eyes. And that’s when the brawl started. I hate this.

Though, after everything, Scott had left me like every other person, claiming he thought I wasn’t a good friend. But that’s okay, because, much to my surprise, Bry became a good friend of mine for years until now. From this experience, I learned to never judge people for what their reasoning might be for something… Unless it’s really, truly dumb.