I trusted you.

(this story contains mentions of vaping and selfharm)

It was the beginning of my 8th-grade year, and as I boarded the bus that morning, a familiar sense of loneliness washed over me. My best friend of many years, whom I’d leaned on throughout the trials of middle school, had moved away over the summer, leaving me feeling adrift among a sea of unfamiliar faces. The first few weeks passed in a haze, filled with awkward encounters and forced smiles, but eventually, I began to forge new connections. I met Addy, a lively girl with an infectious laugh, who could brighten any dull moment, and Mj, who often seemed distant and guarded. Despite sensing Mj’s underlying discontent towards me—an ice wall that made it hard to penetrate her world—Addy and I grew fairly close, bonding over shared classes and mutual interests.

The months that followed blurred into a whirlwind of schoolwork, adolescent drama, and the complexities of navigating friendships. Each new day was filled with ups and downs; one day, I’d feel like I belonged in this new group, while on another, I felt completely out of place. But everything changed dramatically after Christmas break. By then, I had established a friend group that included Ansleigh, Maliah, Kendra, Xaevier, Mj, and Addy—an eclectic mix of personalities, each contributing to a vibrant dynamic.

However, this close-knit circle was engaged in activities I hadn’t tried yet, which sparked a desire in me to fit in at all costs. My curiosity and need for acceptance led me down a risky path: I started vaping. Initially, it seemed harmless enough—a way to bond with my friends, to be part of the in-crowd. The first few hits were harsh; I coughed violently, my lungs protesting against the sudden onslaught. But as the nicotine rush hit me like a tidal wave after only three puffs, I felt an exhilarating sense of calm wash over me. I didn’t care about the warnings I’d heard or the health risks that loomed like dark clouds in my mind. Soon, my body adapted, and what had begun as an experiment became an addiction. Days turned into a blur of sneaking vapes during lunch breaks and dealing with the repercussions—like becoming irritable and snappy with friends and family over trivial matters.

My world began to feel increasingly chaotic, and I often questioned whether the price of acceptance was worth my peace of mind. Then, a significant event shook my shaky foundation. One afternoon at the end of P.E., after an especially chaotic game of dodgeball, I left class early, feeling a sense of relief as I escaped the gym’s chaos. The sound of laughter and shouts faded as I walked down the hallway, looking forward to sitting quietly in my next class. However, while I was gone, another girl’s phone mysteriously went missing. When the teacher suggested calling it, I felt a twinge of unease in the pit of my stomach. The unease soon morphed into dread when I was startled to find a police officer waiting for me just outside the classroom. My heart raced as I was escorted to the office, the air suddenly feeling heavy with tension and accusation.

As I sat in the small, sterile office, anxiety coursing through me, I reflected on my identity as a Black female, which, unfortunately, seemed to predispose me to suspicion in the eyes of authority. The officer searched my backpack thoroughly but found nothing incriminating, but the damage was already done. The shock of being accused left me feeling vulnerable and dismissed. Ultimately, what shattered my trust was the news that people were claiming I had taken the phone—someone even said they had witnessed me doing it.

The following day, in homeroom, my friend Kendra, looking worried, and another girl named Lenna approached me, their expressions a distressing mix of concern and dread. Kendra asked me point-blank if I had really stolen the phone. I was taken aback, my eyes widening in disbelief. I asserted my innocence vehemently, hardly able to comprehend the reality crashing over me. But Kendra quickly revealed that the rumor had originated with Mj, who claimed I was the thief. A cold wave of disbelief crashed over me. Mj—the person I had confided in and trusted more than anyone else! The friend with whom I had walked to the store countless times, the one my mom adored. My heart dropped to my stomach, the betrayal leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. I remembered my mom’s warnings about Mj’s influence and her cautious advice about our friendship, advice I had brushed off while insisting that Mj’s sharp tongue was just a sign of her caring nature.

In the aftermath, I was mortified, especially as Kendra’s anger flared once she realized the truth behind Mj’s betrayal. We quickly went to Addy with the news, and her reaction mirrored Kendra’s—Addy seemed more bewildered than furious, understandably confused by the unfolding drama. In an effort to confront Mj, I poured out my feelings in a note, hoping to communicate my hurt without risking an explosive confrontation:

“Dear Mj,

I've heard that you told people I stole the phone when you know that’s not true. I can’t believe you would lie about that. You lied about me, knowing how many people don’t like me. This friendship is over. I should’ve listened to my mama. I trusted you.

— Love, Jaz”

I handed Mj the note at the beginning of the first period and attempted—though not perfectly—to ignore her from then on. By third period, my seat had been moved, placing me next to Xaevier. As we talked, they shared a shocking revelation: Mj had allegedly hidden the stolen phone in Xaevier’s bag, prompting police to show up at their house. A gasp escaped our group as we processed the implications of her actions. We quickly informed Kendra and the girls about the real situation surrounding the stolen phone, knowing that it might help them understand the magnitude of Mj’s betrayal.

In the end, I learned an invaluable lesson that day: choose your friends wisely, for not everyone who smiles at you has your best interests at heart. The experience fostered resilience in me; it taught me to advocate for myself and to be cautious about whom I allow into my inner circle. As I navigated the complexities of friendship and trust, I realized that genuine connections don’t thrive on jealousy or deceit; rather, they blossom with honesty and respect. This painful chapter pushed me toward self-discovery, ultimately leading me to find strength within that I hadn’t recognized before. I came to understand that while the path ahead might be fraught with challenges, the most important lesson I could carry with me was the importance of being true to myself and surrounding myself with those who genuinely cared for me.