"Hello": The Best Friend

"Hello" is more than a greeting. "Hello" is asking permission to enter someone's life, to bring them new experiences they never thought they'd have, to change their world for better or worse.

I find "hello" to be one of the most powerful words in the world. Dangerous, but powerful.

The Best Friend:

I kept to myself throughout all my school years. I didn't involve myself in drama, or join any clubs. I didn't sit next to others at lunch, kept my distance when sitting at the science lab tables. I would speak when spoken to, but had no reason to speak otherwise. I was content in my quiet little world, ignoring the bustling world on the outside.

Then I met her—we'll call her April, because I learned later in life of her obsession with Ninja Turtles.

It was during the first half of my sophomore year, I remember the chilling breeze of winter rushing through an open window of the cafeteria. It was lunchtime, and I was on the lookout for a certain person. It was a girl, an artist, who took commissions and was recommended to me by a fellow classmate. I had a request, and after seeking out more sources, it was confirmed she was thought to be the best. I sat next to the aforementioned classmate, a girl I disliked more than anyone I'd come across that year. I hated hearing the classmate's voice, and her laugh was no better—it resembled the laugh of that chubby little mouse from Cinderella. Gus-Gus, was it? I sat as far from this classmate as possible, and so, it seemed, did another girl whose back was flush against a pillar. Her eyes were glued to the notebook laid out in front of her, and her hand made quick, jerky movements across the page. She was so invested in her work, but even through her furrowed brow and look of pure focus she seemed kind, friendly. My quest that year was to be brave and initiate a conversation with at least one other human being, and this girl seemed like a great place to start.

After quiet contemplation (I was sorting through the doubts and fearful thoughts that flooded my mind), I finally spoke the first word, the word that would change the game for me completely. "Hello."

She looked up at me, the curiosity in her eye impossible to miss. But it wasn't the kind of curiosity to drive someone away, or make them wonder if they'd made a mistake. It was genuine, as though she didn't expect to be spoken to. She sent the word back my way in a timid, almost cautious voice, "Hello."

Soon enough, after several exchanged words and a tour through the notebook that posed as her sketchbook, I learned she was the artist I was looking for. I learned she liked the classmate that recommended her just as much as I did.

I learned I had just met April.

April and I have been on a rollercoaster with more twists and turns than any found in an amusement park since that very first meeting. I've caused her joy, and laughter, and pain and tears, perhaps more so than she's done to me. But we've both opened each other's eyes a little wider over the years until, finally, we've started learning what the world looks like through the other's eyes.