Dear Diary,
Two weeks ago, the buddy system became official. There's actually a poster in the main hallway now: "New? Need a buddy? Sign up here!" with Mrs. De Wit's office number. It feels surreal seeing something we created actually exist.
We've had five new students sign up already. Izzy Miller is doing so much better—she even became a buddy herself for a girl who transferred last week. Watching her help someone else the way we helped her made me realize how much this actually matters.
Yesterday we had our first buddy meeting after school. Twelve students showed up. Twelve. Maya and I stood in front of them, and for a moment I panicked. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I mess this up? But then I looked at their faces and saw the same uncertainty I felt months ago. So I just told the truth. "We're not therapists or counselors," I said. "We're just people who know what it's like to struggle. We're here to listen, to help, and to remind each other that we're not alone."
Everyone shared a little about why they were there. Marcus transferred because he was being bullied at his old school. Aisha's family fled from a war zone and she's still learning English. Others talked about divorce, moving, anxiety, and family issues. Everyone has a story. Everyone has something they're trying to survive.
After the meeting, Marcus came up to me. "Thanks for this," he said. "I was really alone before." "You're not alone anymore," I told him.
Mrs. De Wit watched the whole meeting from the back of the room. When everyone left, she hugged both Maya and me. "I'm so proud of you two," she said. "You're making a real difference."
This weekend, the whole buddy group went bowling. It was Maya's idea—something fun and low-pressure. I haven't laughed that much in months. Maybe years. Marcus kept throwing gutter balls and dramatically falling to his knees. Aisha turned out to be weirdly good at bowling and won both games. Sophie did a victory dance every time she got a strike.
At one point, Maya leaned over and whispered, "Look at what we built." And I did. I looked at this group of people who were all struggling in different ways, but who were laughing together, supporting each other, being there for each other.
We built this. From our pain, we built something good.
The fire still happened. The trauma is still there. But it's not all of me anymore. It's just part of my story.
Not the whole book. Just a chapter.
- G