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Jamie had always been a loner. But the past three years have been especially hard.
In her first year, she was abandoned by her friends.
The second year, she had to leave the group she thought were her new friends. They weren’t good for her. Everything felt like a challenge around them. They bullied Jamie constantly, whispering behind her back and making disgusting comments to her face. Each day felt like survival.
So when this year came the start of high school, Jamie was ecstatic. Finally, she would be somewhere new. A fresh start. A place where she could be challenged, gain new privileges, and most importantly, be seen as someone, not just some kid.
Jamie was an honor student. She hoped that would mean something here, that it might earn her a little respect.
The first day was great. Jamie loved her teachers, this felt like heaven.
But she had no friends.
She sat alone at a table during lunch, just her and her music. At first, that was fine. Peaceful, even. But after a week or two, the silence started to feel heavier. The loneliness crept in, and with it came the sadness.
Worse than that, her isolation started to attract attention.
People began to notice. Not the kind of people who cared, but the kind who enjoyed making others feel small. The ones who came to sit with her didn’t want to talk or make friends. They just wanted to mock her.
The bullying started subtly, then grew cruel.
Jamie began having panic attacks, long, intense episodes that would last for days. She couldn’t bring herself to go to school. And when she did, she often left in the middle of the day, crying, her chest tight, hands shaking, body twitching uncontrollably.
Her dad was called more than once. He left work in tears the day he saw what they were doing to her.
Seeing his little girl like that broken and terrified left him distraught.
Jamie, her father, and her grandmother eventually decided that online school might be the best option.
And for a while it was.
But as the weeks passed, Jamie found herself sinking deeper. She was more depressed than ever. No friends. No hobbies. Nothing to look forward to. Her days blended together in silence and heavy sleep.
Her father, desperate to help, started taking her to the library.
The library hosted a teen after school hangout every Tuesday and Thursday. Jamie didn’t expect much from it. She figured she’d just sit in a corner with her headphones on, listen to music, and daydream about her favorite shows.
And that’s exactly what happened at first.
She watched other teens pass her by, laughing as they played video games, shuffled cards, or talked in little groups that seemed permanently closed off.
By the second week, Jamie was ready to ask her dad if she could stop going. It felt pointless, just another place to feel invisible.
But then, one day, a boy sat next to her.
He was blond, with dark blue eyes and a tan complexion. He wore a red baseball cap with the Alabama 'A' on it, a gray jacket, and worn blue jeans. There was a top ear-piercing that caught the light when he turned his head.
Jamie immediately braced herself. She assumed he was either here to mock her or throw some half-hearted pity her way, just like the others before.
Still, she slipped off her headphones and gave him a blank stare.
“Hey, you look pretty cool just sitting to be alone! You don't mind if I join you, right?” The boy beamed.
Jamie only shook her head.
“Oh sorry, my name is Antony, I should have said that first! How rude of me!.” he said with a sheepish grin.
“It’s fine,” Jamie replied, her voice clipped. “Jamie.” She didn’t smile.
“So,” Antony said eventually, glancing at her. “Do you come here often, or am I just lucky today?”
Jamie’s eyes flicked toward him, unreadable. “Depends on your definition of lucky,” she said coolly
There was a long pause. Antony didn’t look away, but he didn’t push either. He just gave her a small, lopsided smile.
Jamie stared at him, bracing for the usual sarcasm, a joke at her expense, a comment whispered just loud enough to sting. That’s what they all did.
Her chest tightened slightly, but she forced herself to breathe through it.
“You don’t have to pretend,” she said suddenly, eyes narrowing. “I know I look pathetic sitting here alone. Just say what you’re going to say and move on.”
Antony blinked, caught off guard. “What? No, I didn’t mean it like that.”
She didn’t respond. Her fingers tightened around her headphones, eyes dropping to the floor.
Antony hesitated, then spoke a little softer. “I wasn’t trying to be rude or anything. You just looked like someone I’d want to talk to.”
Jamie snorted faintly. “Yeah, okay.” Her voice dripped with doubt.
“I meant you looked like you weren’t just here to goof off. You looked like someone who thinks. I don’t know, cool, but quiet. It’s a compliment, I swear.”
Jamie glanced at him sideways, unsure how to respond to that. She couldn’t tell if he was playing some long game or just genuinely weird. Either way, he hadn’t insulted her. Yet.
But he also hadn’t walked away.
Instead, he just sat there quietly, not pushing, not prying.
For once, someone was treating her like she was just a person. Not a target. Not a project. Just Jamie. And slowly, without even realizing it, her grip on her headphones loosened.
They sat together in a strange, tentative quiet. Not awkward. Not uncomfortable. Just two people who didn’t have to say much to be understood. Antony talked a little, mostly about random things: video games, his terrible taste in snacks, how he accidentally kicked his shoe into a tree once and had to bribe a kid with five dollars to get it down.
Jamie didn’t say much. But she listened. And that was enough for him.
And somehow, he kept showing up.
Each Tuesday. Each Thursday.
Sometimes he brought snacks. Or a new game on his phone to show her. Occasionally he just sat beside her in silence.
Jamie started talking a little more. Even laughing, once or twice. It felt strange, but not bad.
Then one day, he asked, “Hey, want to come over this weekend? I just got the new Mario Kart, and I need someone to crush my ego.”
Jamie hesitated. The old fear tugged at her, warning her to say no, to back away. But for the first time in a long time, she didn’t listen to that voice.
She nodded.
Saturday came. She was nervous, terrified, even, but she showed up at his house.
Antony’s room was messy, warm, and full of life. Posters on the walls. A pile of games in the corner. Music playing softly in the background.
He handed her a controller with a grin.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, Jamie.”
She sat down next to him, still unsure, still guarded, but lighter than she’d felt in years.
The game started. They laughed. They argued over banana peels. Jamie won. Twice.
By the end of the night, it wasn’t about video games.
It was about feeling something she hadn’t in a long time.
Safe. Wanted. Seen.
And when she left his house that evening, she didn’t just walk out with the memory of a fun afternoon.
She walked out with the beginnings of something she never thought she’d find again.
A friend.