Listen to Your Heart

Many years ago, way back in my innocent years, when I was still under five feet tall, growing day by day, and barely twelve years old, things were different. Not only was I different, but so was my life. Things were simple. The worst of my problems were who to invite to my birthday parties, or what ribbon to wear in my hair the next day at school. I didn’t have to worry about drama, or boys, or the ever-churning rumor mill that always seemed to be sputtering out my name. I didn’t have that constant wave of stress roll over me each time a new test or homework assignment was assigned. I never once had to debate on things like college courses or what to do if people found about what happened the previous weekend, and trying to fit in was the least of my few worries. Gossip wasn’t always hurtful, and the biggest rumor that could be spread was that some seventh grader still wet the bed. No one really laughed at one another, only laughing with them, and people’s personal lives weren’t on constant blast. Overall, way back then, when there was really such thing as best friends and pinky promises, life was easy, and actually worth living.

I missed those times. Like nearly everyone else, I was getting tired of having to grow up and deal with reality. All I wanted to do was be young again; have the chance to live life without any difficulties or stress weighing down on my shoulders. Yet I knew that those times were over. The good days were gone, everything had been said and done, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t bring back or even relive the past. Now, all I had left to do was deal with the present, and the future that lay ahead of me.

One thing that I missed the most though, wasn’t being young and carefree, but simply having friends. Back then, in the old times, I had plenty of them. Two in particular just so happened to be my best friends, at least that was what I had thought at that time.

It all started on the first day of fourth grade. It had been raining, the sky dark and the clouds large and intimidating. I remembered that day very clearly, not just because I had to sit at the bus stop in my purple rain coat and goulashes, standing innocently in the center of a puddle while my mother and father stood behind me, clutching my hands as they shielded themselves with an umbrella, but also because it was the first day in my entire life that I gained friends. I had always been a wallflower. I was much smaller than my classmates, and my voice was almost always as low as a whisper--if not quieter. I was soft-spoken and polite, saying things like “please” and “thank you” at the precise times, and never once did I cause trouble. I studied my absolute hardest--however hard a third grade student had to study, that is--and did my absolute best in everything that I set my mind to. Yet in the real world, being quiet and studious wasn’t always the way to be. Instead, I was teased, constantly being ridiculed about my love for reading, and even my uncontrollable size, leaving me nothing but a socially awkward wreck. Even back then, during those “good days” that I enjoyed mentioning, I just didn’t fit in.

So when I stepped onto the school bus that Monday morning, clueless and scared, I hadn’t expected much. I imagined walking down the narrow isle with my head down, ignoring the harsh words that would be thrown my way, and ultimately doing my best to mind my own business, and sit down in the first empty seat I saw. There was one measly problem though. As I continued to walk down the isle, I noticed that there were no empty seats on the school bus that Monday morning.

My heart sank in my chest as I glanced up, catching the eyes of every passenger, each seat filled to the maximum of two. “Sit down, girl,” the bus driver growled, and the engine roared to life.

I quickly nodded, and my only other option was just to sit on the floor. Yet just as I began to squat down in the isle, the odd-girl out in a crowd of dozens, as my eyes widened at the muddy mess that my backside would eventually be planted on, and a sudden voice caused my head to snap upward. “You can sit with us.” Two girls around my own age sat aimlessly in the seat beside me. One was blonde, her curled hair framing her chubby face, as two wide blue eyes stared with sincerity. The other was smaller, thin with stick-straight brunette hair and a mole on her left cheek.

I was surprised. Here I was, only mere seconds away from sitting in a puddle of mud and grime on the school bus, the tears already welling in my blue eyes, as two girls--peers--offered me the one thing that I had never received from children my age before; kindness. They were familiar faces. I remembered them as two of my classmates, girls whom I had been attending school with since Kindergarten. I just couldn’t comprehend why on earth they had chosen now to speak to my, though. After nearly five years of complete and utter ignorance, these two girls were speaking their very first words to poor little me: words that, for once, made me smile.

“Scoot over, Chloe,” the blonde girl said, and she ushered for the thinner girl--Chloe--to move closer to the window. The girl did as said, before the blonde one turned to me again. “Sit,” she said simply, and she patted the small open space on the seat beside her.

I did my best to hide the blush that rose to my cheeks as I got to my feet, quickly sitting down beside the girl. What should I say? I thought to myself, oblivious as to what to do next. But the blonde girl, who seemed to be the most outspoken, broke the silence first. “I’m Daisy,” she said as soon as I had sat down. I had dropped the hood of my purple raincoat, and was reaching up to adjust the knit cap adorning my shoulder-length raven hair as the girl held out a pudgy hand. “Daisy Donahue,” she repeated, then pointed to the other girl, smashed up against the window beside her, “and this is Chloe Nash.”

I just looked at them, taking in each of their features. I had never had this happen to me before. I had always been odd, that one girl who was singled-out from the rest of the group, the one who sat in the back of the classroom and minded my own business, while everyone else chattered and gossiped until the day’s end. Daisy and Chloe had always been some of the “popular” girls in class. While I simply shied away in the back, the other two girls were up front and center, eager for small-talk and laughter. But here, at that moment, while I sat into a crammed seat with two other girls, I finally realized that it was possible: Scarlett Foreihan could make friends.

“I’m Scarlett,” I said at last, and I stuck out my hand as well, smiling as I shook both of the palms and sets of fingers awaiting my own. “It’s nice to meet you.”

So there it was. On that day, the first day of fourth grade, eight years ago, I made my first real friends. It was a new concept for me, but I quickly got used to it. From sitting with Chloe and Daisy ever single day on the bus, to sharing jokes and conversations with them throughout the school day--life for me had changed, and boy, was it for the better.

I loved being able to know things about people for once. Within that first week, I learned so much about the two girls whom had known each other forever, then suddenly welcomed me into their group. I found out that Daisy’s parents had been separated ever since she was two years old, and that she bounced between houses during weekends and holidays. I learned that Chloe’s mother was an ex-model, and now a wealthy businesswoman who brought home more than enough money for the Nash family every week. And the girls found out things about me, too. Chloe Nash and Daisy Donahue--the vibrant, beautiful girls that they were--learned that I, Scarlett Foreihan, who was so quiet and reserved and destined for gluttonous habits, had no secrets. I didn’t have anything to hide. My life was right there out in the open, absolutely nothing hidden. And that was a shock to them, so much of a shock, that they almost didn’t believe that I was so honest. Yet it was true. I always told the truth. I never broke promises, and I never lied… Or at least that was how it used to be.

For the next four years of my life, after that one day on the school bus, I spent every single day with Daisy and Chloe. Anything and everything I did, no matter where, either one or both of those girls were right at my side. Each weekend, we would rotate on whose house to have a sleepover at, then spend the night gossiping and laughing nonstop, until we would eventually fall asleep in a pile on whoever’s floor it just so happened to be that time around. We were a strong group, our friendship almost intimidating.

Everyone at school knew of us as a trio. It was shocking to see any of us alone, and even more surprising when it was only two, the other girl missing in action. By the time we hit junior high, our friendship reigned even stronger. It got to the point where Daisy, Chloe, and I were popular. All of the boys followed us through the hallways, and the girls were always hoping for a chance to be a part of our little circle. But it was never any more or less than just us three. No one was ever asked to sit with us at our secluded lunch table that we had claimed as our own, and only the most daring would risk it all and sit beside us in the cafeteria without permission.

It was the summer before our freshmen year of high school when everything changed. It was the summer after eighth grade, the summer that the whole class spent running away from the seniors and their horrible methods of initiation. It was the summer that we all thought that we were finally going to be considered “grown up”, as if one grade changed it all… But it was also the summer that my mom got sick.

My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer in early June, and before I knew it, I was forced to stay home everyday after school to baby-sit my little sister Rhiannon while my sick mother was at the hospital. The cancer, whether I liked it or not, was almost as much of a part of me as it was a part of my mom. I may not have physically had the disease myself, but the emotional impact of it all hit me just as hard.

The doctor gave my mother only a few months left to live. The cancer had been caught way too late, and ultimately, there was no real cure. But she kept fighting through, way longer and harder than any of us could have ever imagined.

But during the time when I thought I would never see my mother again, I tried to spend as much time with her as possible. That meant that I spent less time with my friends--Daisy and Chloe. Even though I figured they would understand my reasons for cancelling plans, considering the circumstances, I ended up being wrong. They only accepted my constant rescheduling and times where I blew them off for a few months before things went wrong.

My best friends, Chloe Nash and Daisy Donahue, the girls who had been by my side and with me through absolutely everything since fourth grade, were who I expected the support from most. We were like three peas in a pod, spending every Friday and Saturday night at each other’s houses, and the week days after school planning for our next big sleepover event. Whenever they had problems, they came to me. And whenever I had mine--the little problems that I ever did have--I would do the exact same. That was what friends were for.

That would be why I hadn’t even realized that there was even a problem until one Friday night, when I was sitting in my bedroom packing my overnight bag for a sleepover at Chloe’s. I was busy stuffing clean clothes into my bright pink backpack, when my father came rushing into my room; frantic.

“Scarlett,” he said quickly, out of breath as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his sweaty nose, “your mother just fainted. I’m about to leave for the hospital. I need you to stay here and watch Rhiannon for me.” Fainting was one of my mother’s most common symptoms. Whenever she was in remission, passing out would be the first sign of a relapse.

“But--” I began, a furrow in my brow. I slowly stood up, dropping the clothes that I had had in my hands to the floor.

My father only shook his head though, making his way back for the door. “You’ll have to cancel your plans, sweetie. I’ll see you later tonight.” And then he was gone.

It was that night that my entire life was turned upside down. I called Chloe to explain the situation, thinking that she would understand, but I got the exact opposite. I could hear Daisy in the background of the call, her voice bitter as she told Chloe what to say to me.

“You never have time for us anymore,” Chloe went on, and her voice sounded on-edge as the tears welled in my eyes. “We try to make plans all the time, but you always have an excuse.” My heart sank in my chest.

Nothing was going right. My mother hadn’t been well, Rhiannon was as oblivious as ever, and now this? I was losing my friends in the blink of an eye--slowly and painfully--which absolutely killed me inside. It wasn’t my fault that my mother was sick. The cancer wasn’t at all preventable, and obviously not as curable as the doctors had once promised. I couldn’t control my mother’s health, nor could I control anything that was going on in my life at that moment. And I most definitely couldn’t control what came next.

“I’m sorry, Scar,” Chloe began again, and although she had apologized, there was no sympathy in her tone. She didn’t sounds sorry, she didn’t sound upset, she didn’t sound worried--she sounded normal and calm, as if what was happening wasn’t even occurring at all.

I choked back my cries, swallowing my tears as the phone shook in my quivering hand. My fingers grasped tighter around the receiver, and I opened my mouth to speak. I didn’t want this to be happening. Not now. Not while my mother was in such a state, and my father was almost to his breaking point… The timing just couldn’t have been any worse. With an uneasy tone in my voice, I had squeezed my eyes tight shut, whispering quietly, “Well… what does that mean?”

I knew exactly what it meant. How could I not? But I asked anyway, just hoping that Chloe’s answer would be different than my own assumption. These were my best friends. Chloe, who was soft-spoken and beautiful, the girl who I always knew that she could go to whenever I was sad or hurt. Then Daisy, the strong-willed, independent wild child with more heart than anyone else that I had ever met. They were my best friends.; the two girls that had made me a part of them so many years ago. It was that day on the school bus when I gained those best friends, yet it was that day, as my mother lay unconscious in the back of an ambulance, and my father chased the vehicle’s tail in his pick-up truck that I lost them.

“Well--” Chloe started, but she stopped herself. Daisy’s voice was heard in the background, and I only heard a few of the hurtful words that she was thrashing before I forcefully zoned her out, and focused on the last thing that Chloe said to me before ending the call; the very last thing Chloe--my best friend--said before shutting me out of her life forever: “Daisy and I don’t think we should be friends with you anymore. We feel bad about your mom, but we have been friends since forever, and we don't appreciate being ditched all the time. If you don’t have time for us, then we shouldn’t have to make time for you. We just can’t take it anymore. I’m sorry, but we have found different people to hang out with… and you’re not one of them… Goodbye, Scarlett.”