Do you ever wonder what people are thinking as you pass them in the hallway? Or do you just stroll on by, preoccupied with your own self? I’m inclined to believe that the majority of young people maintain the second mentality. I wonder, though. I love to play the What’s On Their Mind? game. Maybe he is wondering what his future will be and that’s why he’s wearing that concentrated frown. Maybe it’s the thought of that one special boy bringing that small smile to her lips. Honestly? You rarely notice me noticing you. I find that so odd. Nonetheless, I do notice. You can be sure that you’re all being watched.

…

An air conditioned chill made me clutch my sheer overshirt closer to my chest as I turned the next page of my book. I was sitting in the school with my knees pulled up to my chest, tucked in a small nook behind a seldom used staircase. I’ve always been pretty good at finding hiding spots. Not because I’m scared of people or feel like I need to hide, but because I sometimes like time to myself. Being the oldest in a very full house, I cherish time to study or read in peace. That is why I was there in that tucked away crevasse, squinting against the half-lighting and risking a concentration headache when two other girls decided to duck into the same hidey-hole. I knew they couldn’t see me in my shadowed area, so I decided to wait and see if they would leave.
“Hey,” one of the girls nudged the other, “That little corner is pretty sketchy. Somebody could totally just be sketching around over there and we’d never know.” I had to stifle a giggle, deciding to poke my head out into the light. “Oh!” the girl gasped, jerking back and stumbling into her friend. Her purple-stained lips, the very same shade as her purple-dyed hair, fell open into an ‘o’ of shock before she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was anyone back here.”
I shrugged, unfolding myself from my hiding spot. “Oh, it’s fine.”
“We’ll go.” she said, and I shrugged yet again. I was unsure of these ‘normal’ high school-ers. They seemed a little rough around the edges, not like people I’d usually have reason to associate with.
It could’ve ended there, but the other girl shook her friend’s tugging hand off her arm and asked, “Would you mind if we ate here today?”
I smiled, not wanting to be rude and refuse. “Not at all.”
We introduced ourselves and sat in a small circle on the floor. I spent the rest of the allotted lunch time talking to these girls. One girl told me about her older boyfriend, at which I expressed my alarm and concern. She rolled her eyes dismissively and I let it go. For those twenty or so minutes, I got to know these girls under an unspoken truce. We were on common ground, equal. I never saw them again after that one time, but I’m glad I got the chance to meet them. The less-polished, more coarse exteriors hid people quite similar to myself. They were only girls who didn’t feel like eating in a busy cafeteria, just like me.

…

I walked into the school’s bathroom with my bag still on my shoulder from my last class. I refuse to enter the bathroom during the between-class stampedes, so I usually have it all to myself. This day, however, I nearly turned and walked back out. I could clearly hear that the room already had an occupant, and she was crying.
I hovered in the small tile entryway for a moment, out of sight, steeling myself to enter. Emotional teenagers can be dangerous, so I reminded myself to be prepared for anything, even being screamed at or receiving a fist to the nose. I breathed deeply and proceeded cautiously. She was fairly average-looking: average build, averagely trendy clothes. There was mascara running down her face as she gripped the sink with white knuckles.
I hesitated before walking to her. She certainly knew I was there, but she was either too upset or too mortified to acknowledge me. A tentative question crept from my throat. “Are you okay?”
That was all it took. I spent the better part of the next ten minutes hugging a crying stranger in the girls’ bathroom. “Muh-my boyfriend just dumped me.” she sobbed into my hair, “Right in the hallway. He said someone told him I was cheating. But, like, he didn’t even care. He was so freaking calm.” How horrible, I thought to myself, for someone who is breaking your heart to not even look upset about it.
I’ve never heard words so insistent and earnest as those she spoke to me, as if trying to convince someone else, maybe him or maybe herself, “I didn’t, I swear. I love him.”
Yikes. Emotional teenagers in love are even more dangerous. After she had cried herself out and cleaned off her face, I unzipped a certain pouch of my backpack I keep for emergencies. The last thing I said to her was “Hang on. It will get better. You can do better.” I hope the futility of the words was negated by the soft green plush frog (who had been biding his time in my bag for more than a month, just waiting to be useful) I handed her. I slipped away, wishing so much that I could do something more.

…

Once in a while, someone does notice something outside of their own bubbles. On extraordinarily rare occasions, someone even catches me off guard. One day, as I crept down an empty hallway - or at least, one I had presumed to be empty - I had the overwhelming urge to just flit about like a madwoman. The hallway was so large and empty and inviting...I just had to turn a cartwheel.
Now, I need you all to understand, I had no idea that there was a potted plant nearby. I had no inkling that an impromptu cartwheel would let loose a small avalanche of potting soil over the windowsill. I picked myself up off my butt, laughing at my own foolishness all the while. I did my very best to sweep the mound up and right the upturned plant. I continued chuckling, after all, no one was about to hear and think that my little red choo-choo had finally chugged around the bend.
Fully intending to continue on to my destination but still full of girlish glee, I shuffle-twirled down around the corner. Imagine my alarm to come face-to-face with a member of the maintenance staff. He tried to hide his smile long enough to ask me, “You all right there, Miss?”
I realize that the emotion you’d be expecting here would be embarrassment, but there was none of that. I wondered soon after, though, about its absence and what that says about me. My smile was as radiant as I could muster as I replied “Fine, thank you, sir.”
I silently chastised myself later on for not noticing the man in the hallway. Ever since, I’ve redoubled my efforts to see the staff. I still nod good afternoon and wish a good weekend to the man I saw for the first time that day. All of the sudden, I see him everywhere. I guess he must have always been, I just hadn’t been looking.

…

If there is a moral to this story, - in a very confused, round-about way, I believe there is - I hope you think on it for a while today. Why don’t you say “Hello!” to the janitor or make a new friend? Friendliness comes at absolutely no cost to you. Why not make someone’s day just a little bit more pleasant? Why not look around, just long enough to actually see something worth noticing? Why not- but I digress. Thank you for taking the time to listen. I’ll be seeing you.