You grasped my attention the first day I saw you. It was sixth grade, global studies class. When we went around the class introducing ourselves, you guffawed, “I am a Jenny!* That’s just what I am!” You laughed shamelessly and blurted out answers to questions with ease. I thought, This is a smart girl. I thought, I want to know you.

Months passed, and I seldom spoke to you, though your face still crossed my vision every day. I remember when we played Sink or Swim to review for tests, and everybody wanted you and me to be on their teams. “Why me?” you laughed. “Why me?” Fast forward to eighth grade, when we slept together. Oh no, not in that sense. Our eighth grade trip to the ranch turned sour for me when I discovered a nest of crickets behind my bed. But you shared your bed with me, and didn’t mind the fact that the blanket covered myself more than it did you.

Then winter rolled along, and you found out about the bullies. You swore that you would confront them. Late into the night, you stalked their Instagram pages to track their activity, planning the precise moment of attack. By February, I dared to call you my friend, until jealousy took to you. You flinched at the thought that I was top scholar of the grade, and not you. And that’s when everything went downhill. You turned our current group of friends against me, using persuasive words like “insane” and “clingy”. You used code words around me and devised a plan to get rid of me.

When I found out, I soaked my pillow with tears. Why me? Why me? Soon afterwards, the rumors started circulating, the secrets started spilling. “Did you hear about Alice?” “She’s insane-” “She almost committed suicide!” My innocent girl reputation was broken, and there was no way to fix it. As the year drew to an end, you came to your senses and recognized your mistakes. But you were still too proud and cowardly to apologize during that tearful seminar, so you came up to me afterwards. I heard your shoes plodding on the grass just as your arms wrapped around me.

“I am so sorry,” you laughed. I’ve noticed you always seem to laugh, no matter the circumstance. “I have such a big mouth, and I promise I won’t do it again!” I wrenched myself from your grip and walked away. I couldn’t bear to look back at your eyes, crinkled with laughter, or the big smile plastered on your face. I shook my head. And I’m sorry, but sometimes, it’s just too hard to forgive.

And now? Your actions became a burden for me, and they play like a broken record, over and over again. Every day when I walk down the hallway, I feel like everyone is judging me. Do they still think of me as the girl who almost killed herself? Do they remember my secrets, which were passed along the hallways like a box of donuts? My mind is restless now. But I suppose I should thank you. Because of you, I am no longer a naïve and stupid little girl who trusts every too easily. I watch out for false friends more carefully, and hold my tongue when I feel tempted to tell someone a secret. So the point of this whole letter? Thank you, Jenny. You have made me stronger than ever.

*All names have been changed.