Dear Diary,
Today, after school, I went to Maya's house. I talked to Mrs. De Wit about it, and she said it might be wise to talk to someone about it, to share my story with someone who wasn't already aware of it. She says Maya would be a great choice, but she doesn't say why. But today, my goal is to talk to her.
As we're chilling in her room, I calmly say the words, "Can I tell you something?" She nods calmly, and bit by bit, I tell my story, just as calmly as I had told Mrs. De Wit two days earlier. Maya's eyes look at me with surprise, but a different kind of surprise than I'm used to. "Springfield High?" she asks me softly. I nod, and her eyes widen. "I was there." I look at her in surprise as she tells her own story. She was also in the school, closer to the chemistry lab than I had been. She experiences the same panic, smoke, and screaming. She even ended up in the hospital from smoke inhalation. She was in a different classroom, which is why I didn't recognize her. "What are the odds..." I whisper softly. We're both in shock of recognition. After a moment of silence, Maya says, "I transferred here last year. I couldn't go back either."
Now I understand why Mrs. De Wit wanted me to talk to Maya. We share the same pain.
When Maya's parents arrive, they immediately understand the situation. Maya's mother immediately gives me a hug that seems to come from deep within. Eventually, many tears flowed and there was laughter of relief. I decided to stay the night at Maya's (with her parents' permission, of course), and we talked until 4 a.m.
I found her. Or she found me. Either way, I'm not alone anymore.
- G