October 22, 2017
By Anonymous

Philip is a friend of mines who taught me how to play basketball. He was a very nice friend but a very ambitious one too. I once wondered what would happen if I were to loose my favorite thing and a very good friend at the same time. I thought that I was going to be okay when that happened because friends are only friend, not as close as family, I thought. But, what I realized soon was that I was wrong.

One day, I noticed that my pencil was gone after I went to the bathroom. I searched all over the classroom, asking my classmates if they have seen the oxigel.

“ NO ” they replied. They all replied in the same way.

I was so worried about my pencil. What should I do when my parents found out that my pencil was missing? What should I do?

“ Help! ” I screamed in my mind.
“ Help, help, help! “ I thought again. Over and over, repeatedly, I could feel that word screaming.
I had to calm down though. I didn’t know what to do.
“ Calm down, calm down,” I told myself. Even though my heart was forcing itself to jump out of my body, I still had to calm down. Tears were burning in my eyes though. I could feel it. Oh god, I had wished that this never happened but I cried.
“What happened?” Philip said as he came close to me.

“I lost my favorite pencil, the white oxigel,” I replied. Then, I told him what happened, starting from when I went to the bathroom to right now. I couldn’t believe it. I lost my favorite pencil. From that day on, I learned that I should not bring any valuable things to school because I might lose it or someone might take it away from me.
I went home in tears. Nobody noticed me. No one asked me what happened. I sat there alone, by myself, thinking what would happen if I would ever find my pencil ever again. My parents asked me if something interesting happened at school today. I said nothing and went on with my day going into my room. That’s when I noticed something about myself. I went to bed that night feeling like I could never go through with the next day. Never, ever have I had this feeling.

The next day, when my dad dropped me off at school, a miracle happened. As I was brushing the leaves on the sidewalk, Arnav, the person who I hated, told me that he had found my pencil. I was surprised. He even showed me the pencil and gave it to me. Arnav told me that Philip had stolen the pencil. I didn’t believe him at first, but I slowly started to realize that it was true. I was too amazed that I couldn’t believe what I just heard coming from Arnav.

“ How could he have stolen my pencil?” I pondered. Although he was a really good friend, I knew deep down in my heart he wouldn’t do that to me. He was a friend I would never forget.

“Go ask him then” Arnav replied.
“Okay” I replied. I had to make sure that Arnav was telling the truth so I went up to him to talk about it.
“ Hi” I said cheerfully. He didn’t reply, all he did was just run away. I could feel that he was the one that stole my pencil now. I couldn’t believe it. He ignored me for the first time. I tried it again at lunch.
“ Hi Philip”
“Hey” he muttered, as if he did something wrong.

At first, I thought that he was the one who took my pencil, but after a while, I noticed that he couldn’t have taken the pencil. I didn’t really know what to do, whether to hate him or just go with it as if nothing happened. I don’t know if he really took the pencil or not. I asked him before but there was no answer. Does that signal a yes or no?

Now I am here, standing at the basketball courts, thinking about how it was like before I met him. Prior to when I met him, I was just a normal girl. An adolescent that doesn’t know what happens when you lose your favorite pencil and that one of your closest friends at the same time would betray you. Staring at the court, I could remember the good old days, the days where it used to be like, the wonders on the courts, the drama of sixth grade, and all the hardships that it came with. Well I’m done with it. Goodbye to them and to him.

The author's comments:

Friends are not just friends, they are forever.

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