With long, caramel hair falling into her face, she draws up her pencil to her notebook. Beginning to sketch something onto the thin pages on her bright pink backpack; she notices I am looking at her and manages a tiny smile on her face, then goes back to her notebook. I catch a glimpse, enough to see the outline of a drawing. It looks like the earth with tiny circles around it, like people holding hands. As she continues to draw, her delicate hands begin to working at the pace and rhythm of my heartbeat.

“Pay attention!!” the teacher snaps. I turn my attention to the front again as, she continues to drone endlessly about medieval Europe. I move my eyes around and smile, she is still drawing. She has always been a shy girl, nobody has really heard her talk before. Whenever she does presentations, she always talks in a small voice, with her hair in her face, not really talking to the class but to herself. But she always seems to draw in that notebook. It’s like her life revolves around that pink notebook. I snap my attention back to real life instead of my thoughts. Too late the bell has rang and it is time to go. I start to put all my stuff away but I’m interrupted by a tap on my shoulder. And there stands the girl.

“I saw you staring at my drawings,” she starts in a quiet voice. “Well here it is,” she says as she gives me the drawing. I was right, I thought to myself, as I stare at an earth with people revolving around it, holding hands.
“What do you think?” she asks.

“It’s beautiful but what does it mean?” I respond
She smiles as she says,”This drawing means that we are all connected. We are like pieces of a puzzle,”
“Oh,” I say with a smile. She sighs as she picks up her notebook again.
“Since you have always seem interested with my notebook, I would like you to have it,” she says.”
“No I can’t,” I start before she interrupts me.

“You see, I’m not going to be here for a while, and I want you to take care of it for me. You could look at the drawings and if you want, you could draw something in it too,” she finishes, with tears forming in her eyes.
“Goodbye,” she whispers and then runs out of the classroom. I do not follow, I’m too shocked to even think. I flip through the pages of her notebook, careful not to wrinkle them. I never saw that girl again. I never even got her name. The whole class has already forgotten about her, except me. I still look through her notebook, wondering what most of them mean. I often wish that I had all the answers. I haven’t drawn anything in it, because I haven’t thought of an idea yet, but one day I know that I will have something to draw in her notebook. I wish I would have talked to her more, she had wisdom that I didn’t even know she had. She taught me one important thing, peace with the world. I will never forget the girl who sat in the back seat.