Advice, Anyone?

It’s funny how when you look back at the things you’ve done in your life, you can find almost everything that you did to get you where you are now. For example, if you’re a millionaire, then you probably remember every step you took to become rich. Or, if you’re in prison, you probably remember everything that led up to you doing something to put yourself there. As for me, I remember exactly how I got where I am now.

It all started in a little town in California. I was in seventh grade and almost 13. I was just like any other kid, except for one thing. I helped people with their problems. Most kids just left it up to the oblivious teachers, but I didn’t.

It began one day at school during lunch. I had just walked into the girls’ bathroom. I heard something ahead of me. I looked to my left and saw four sinks, three of which were broken. Above the sinks were mirrors, in which I saw my frizzy red-brown hair, green eyes, and freckles covering my nose and cheeks. Then I looked up and saw holes and dirt covering the ceiling. Next, I looked right. There I spotted five empty stalls, one of which was closed. With in the closed stall I heard sobbing. Gently, I knocked on the door. The crying stopped. "Are you alright?" I asked.

"Lindsay, is that you?" I heard a crackling voice question.

"Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?" I asked. The girl did not reply, but just kept on crying. I couldn’t recognize the voice of the weeping girl. It was so familiar. Then it hit me. It was Tasha.

The stall door opened. There stood Tasha. Her sweatshirt was drenched with tears. Her brown eyes were flooded and her black hair mangled. Mascara seeped onto her dark, chubby cheeks. I had never seen her like this. All I had ever known from her was a girl who loved to write, make jokes, and in every way act like she was crazy in a hilarious way. I couldn’t help but think why such a carefree thirteen years old could be so sad.

For a moment we just stood there staring at each other with only the sound of sniffling being made. Finally, I asked her, "Are you alright, Tasha? What happened?"

Tasha waited to catch her breath and then said, "You wouldn’t understand."

As she was about to walk away I grabbed her arm. "Wait, Tasha," I exclaimed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Tasha gave out a sob and then said between sniffs, "It’s just so hard! At school I’m fine, but at home it all comes back to me. The yelling of my parents. The screaming of four little, confused kids. The singing of my grandmother, who’s to old to realize that if we don’t get enough money we’ll be kicked out of our house and have to live on the streets! Sometimes it’s so bad at home that I just stay out all night with Chelsea." Tasha began to bawl again.

I had never realized what Tasha’s life was like outside of school. It really surprised me that she and Chelsea stayed out all night. Chelsea is one of those people that you can just tell has a lot of problems. At least she and Tasha had each other to be comforted by.

I put my arm around Tasha to calm her. "It’s all right, Tasha," I assured. "Don’t worry, whenever bad things happen there’s always a way to tranquil it a little bit."

Tasha looked at me and said, "not in this case."

I thought a moment. "Do you have anywhere to stay?"

"Yeah, at my aunts house," Tasha informed.

"Well," I replied. "At least you have a place to stay, and if her home is really bad then at least you know it won’t be forever. Right?"

The girl answered, "True. Mom says that we’ll probably be able to get an apartment in a few weeks."

"That’s good," I said. "See. Everything will be all right in a while. Also, if you need anything, then everyone at school and I would be glad to help."

"Thanks, Lindsay," Tasha said.

"Just remember that we’re all here for you. Also, you could write about this when you’re older. Maybe even get it published," I assured.

Tasha gave a slight smile. We then left the bathroom and went to go buy our lunches.

The next day in the middle of 2nd period I got sick. Ms. Freeman sent me to the office to wait for my parents to pick me up. I trudged my way to the other side of campus. All the way there I felt like I was going to throw up my breakfast . As I opened the office door I saw James. He and I had never really been friends. He was an only child and loved to cook. A mop of black hair sat on his fat head. His orange and black jacket was just screaming, “beat me up!” His anger was his worst feature. Every time someone said anything even remotely negative he blew up. But, beneath the anger was a sad and depressed boy.

I gave him a wave, followed by a sneeze. James just sat there with a mad look on his face. I sat down besides him. "Are you all right? Why are you in here?" I questioned.

"I don’t want to talk about it," the boy said with flaming eyes.

"Let me guess. Someone said something rude to you, so you yelled at him and the teacher sent you here, even though he started it?" I guessed. This was usually the reason why he got in trouble.

"Yeah. Will said ‘Wow! I can’t believe how ugly that jacket is’." James said in a high pitched, mimicking voice. "If he doesn’t like it then he should go somewhere where it isn’t at. Or if he really doesn’t like it then he could just by me a new one."

"True," I said. "So why are you here if he’s the one that said it?"

"I yelled at him for it," James announced. "Sometimes it’s just hard not to, when people are to make me mad on purpose."

"Yeah," I said. "But, you know how when you’re an adult you want to be a chef and an actor? Maybe you should practice acting now in cases like these."

"Huh?" He asked in a confused tone.

"Sometimes," I said. "You just have to act like it doesn’t bother you. Then people will stop."

"Maybe," he replied.

"Do you think you might want to try it?" I questioned.

"Maybe," he said.

"If that doesn’t work then maybe you should talk to your parents about it. They can probably help," I told him.

"Okay. I need to practice acting more often anyway," James said.

I smiled and then left the office, because I could see my mom’s green car outside.

Later on that week Amy, one of my good friends, tried to start a fight. Apparently some girl had called her something, which happens a lot. It gets on her nerves especially bad, because all her life she’s wanted to fit in. Chances are, it was mainly a fight for a guy. Almost every boy at this school likes Amy, so it’s no surprise that a jealous girl comes along every now and then. When I got to my third period class, I saw them yelling at each other. I tried to talk Amy out of it, but she was determined, so I tried another tactic.

"Listen Amy," I said. "You don’t want to start a fight."

"Why not, Lindsay?" She questioned.

"You shouldn’t, because then you’ll get suspended," I said.

"So? I don’t care," Amy told me.

"If you start a fight with everyone who says something then you won’t have any friends left," I said while holding Amy back.

She replied, "why should I care? If they don’t like me then I don’t like them."

I thought a moment and then said, "Well, something might happen. If you get in a fight your pretty black hair will be messed up." She began to listen, though she still was planning to beat up the girl. "Your favorite little, blue shirt might be torn. That shirt was very expensive, wasn’t it? Also, your new, expensive jeans might get holes in them. Wouldn’t that be awful? Plus, blood shows up very well on light skin like yours. If your not pretty then you can’t be a model and Alex won’t think your pretty."

She thought a moment and then said to the girl, "Okay, you one this time, but call me that one more time and you‘ll be wishing you had never even met me!" I smiled at her with gladness. If you say just the right thing to a person it can make all of the difference.

The rest of the week was fairly boring, except on Friday. I was sitting at my desk listening to Mrs. Roberts tell the class about ancient Greece when Alex, who sat to my right did something that no one had expected. I saw him pull something shiny out of his backpack. At first I thought nothing of it until I heard Kim scream, "he has a gun!"
Startled, I looked at Alex, and sure enough he was holding a gun. My heart seemed to stop and my stomach turned. I began to turn pale.

"Everyone stay where you are," Alex said.

I knew I had to do something. "Psst, Alex. What are you doing?" There was no reply. “Alex, there’s other ways to handle problems. Just put the gun down and we can talk about this.”

"Be quiet or I’ll shoot you," he told me.

"Alex, just put the gun down. We can talk about th…" I never was able to finish my sentence. The gun went of with a loud bang. I felt something go through my chest and I heard screams. When I touched my hand to my heart I realized that my shirt was drenched in blood. It suddenly got very cold. I slumped in my seat.

"If anyone moves then they’ll get shot to," Alex threatened.

With very little energy left I said, "Alex, you don’t need to do this. Put the gun down before someone else gets hurt. Please, Alex."

Slowly, Alex put the gun on his desk and then ran like lightning out the front door. Then everything went black.

The next day I woke up in a hospital bead. I could hear people yelling, "She’s waking up! She’s waking up!" When I opened my eyes I saw my parents, Amy, James, and Tasha. My parents both hugged me, which hurt but I didn’t say anything. After a while they left when Amy gave a "could we have a minute alone" look.

"Hi," I said to the three people. They all greeted me back. I looked at Amy. "Sorry about Alex."

Amy replied, "it’s okay. I didn’t especially like him anyway." We smiled and then Amy said, “here I brought you a picture of Whiskers." She handed me a picture of my black cat.

"Thanks," I said. "Well, I guess I won’t be doing much dancing now."

"The doctor says that in a while you’ll be fine," Tasha said.

The three people looked at each other and then Amy said, "Listen. What you’ve done for all of us id pretty amazing."

"You’ve helped us a lot," James said.

Next, Tasha said, "Lindsay, we think that you should help other people to. You’re so good at it. We were thinking that when your better, if you want to that is, you could join the school newspaper to write an advice column."

I replied, "Thanks. I’d like that." They remembered that I had always wanted to be a writer for the school newspaper. We all smiled and then my parents entered the room again.

So this is how I got to be where I am now. Currently, I’m in college studying to be a psychiatrist. Amy’s a model now. She’s getting famous. Tasha has written two books so far, one of which is based on her own life. James has opened up his own restaurant. Alex is getting out of juvenile hall this year. He’s doing much better. I owe my success all to them. Without them I wouldn’t be able to help other people. So, now I just want to say to them, “Thank you!”