Jillian--The Best Day of My Life

October 16, 2014

Dear Diary,

As I’m sure you are aware by now, three years ago, I came to Los Angeles as a timid, small town freshman from Minnesota. As I was growing up, my family moved often, mostly because of my lack of friends and plethora of bullies at each new school. But this time, Dad got a new job, and we came to California hoping the warm weather might correlate with warmer hearts of classmates. Unfortunately, we couldn’t have been more wrong. Even on the sunniest days, in high school, California was much colder than Minnesota could ever be.

What I hoped would be a refreshing new start turned out to be a miserable disappointment. Bullies lurked the halls, eyeing and picking at me like vultures on a carcass every time I walked by. In the beginning, it was just standard stuff. You know, name calling, getting smashed against the locker, the occasional dumping of my backpack, etcetera. But as high school progressed, the beatings and humiliations did too, and they paid more attention to my daily fate than to their own personal lives. I was brutally terrorized in every aspect of my life. There was no escape, I thought. That is, until I met Sarah.

Sarah Jenkins. Sarah moved to Los Angeles this summer and began her last year of high school at this hell hole. Turns out, our parents both made the wrong decision. She sat next to me in Pre-Calculus on the first day of senior year. God, she was pretty. Long brown hair, sparkling green eyes, that pink sundress against her skin. She was a glistening beam of beauty. I would never talk to a girl like that, of course, but we had all the same classes. We walked the same paths. And on our third day of school, she caught up to me in the hall and introduced herself. That day was the best day of my life.

As the weeks went by, Sarah and I grew closer and closer. We did homework and ate lunch together every day. Whenever someone tried to tear me down, she would defend me. Sarah was different. She was my best friend and my savior. One day, she told me about how much she missed her friends at her school in Long Beach, and in September, she took me to their homecoming dance. I met all her friends, had some laughs, and even danced a little bit. For once I was in a public place without fear of being tormented. I was having a great time. I was surrounded by an acceptance that I had never known before. Actually, that day was probably the best day of my life.

I was no longer afraid. I was no longer trapped. Sarah was my escape. We had a connection, and for once in my life I was genuinely happy. Yesterday, I took Sarah to the movies. We laughed our lungs out during the comedy, and continued to do so during dinner afterwards. As I pulled in her driveway at the end of the night, she told me that I am the best friend she’s ever had, and that she cares about me deeply. I was speechless. No. Without a doubt, that day was the best day of my life.

I sat in the car for twenty minutes after that. Thoughts were churning throughout my brain. She told me that she cares for me deeply. What does that mean? I thought. I wanted to tell her the same thing. I wanted to tell her how much she meant to me. I got out of the car, sprinted towards the door, and began to frantically ring the doorbell. After about five rings, I got scared. Maybe she’s hurt. I hopped over the fence to find another way in. I cased the dark house until I found Sarah’s window, open and bursting with light. I peered through the screen. Sarah was not there. I was about to climb in to investigate when she walked in the room, wearing a towel. Of course she didn’t hear me, she was in the shower, I thought. Relieved, I was about to say something to her, but then…….wow…….oh my god…….she’s……she’s stunning.

After another minute, she looked up. She saw me there, frozen in awe of the perfection I had just seen. She quickly picked up her towel and began to scream at me. “Jeffery! What are you doing?! Go away! Go away, you freak! I hate you! I hate you!” I started to run away, but as she said those things, God, why did she say those things? I stopped. Those words. I hear them every day by everyone else. To hear them come out of her mouth. God damn. That bitch. She told me she cared about me.

Sarah wasn’t different. She was just like everybody else. And now I’ll never have to hear her say those things again.

Jeffery