At school, I normally don’t talk much. I try not to draw too much attention to myself during the day by wearing my hoodie and earphones. Simply put, it’s simpler that way.
But it all seemed too loud that morning. Too intelligent. Too much to handle.
So I hid in the girls’ restroom, the same stall I always used when I wanted to vanish, and skipped third period. Trying not to cry, I sat on the toilet lid with my knees hugged to my chest.
Then I heard footsteps. boots that are heavy.
Then there was a knock on the door of the cubicle. “Are you alright in there?”
Officer Givens was the one. Although everyone knew her, I had only ever said a casual “Hello.”
I merely held my breath without replying.
She didn’t press. After a brief pause, she said something that finally got to me. I knew she wasn’t only speculating because it was so personal.
She whispered softly, “You’re not in trouble.” However, last week I noticed your name on the nurse’s record. and I can still recall what it’s like to be invisible.
I pulled the door open.
She took me outdoors for some fresh air instead of marching me directly to the principal’s office, as I had anticipated. She gave me a chance to speak. didn’t interfere. didn’t pass judgement.
She asked if I wanted a picture when we returned inside, so I would have a reminder that I had overcome today.
I gave a nod.
I’ve never told anyone about what she provided me after that, though. Not even my mother.
Officer Givens opened her purse and took out an old Polaroid camera. It had the appearance of an artefact from a museum. She held it up with a smile. “It still works,” she winked. “I’ve had this little guy for years.”
I was about to protest when the flash went off. She gave the picture to me. I was there, hood down, eyes burning, cheeks smeared with tears, yet it was hazy and somewhat crooked.
“Retain it,” she advised. “There are moments when witnessing your own survival has greater impact than acting as though you never broke.”
I remembered what she said. Despite not being poetic, they were genuine. She then gave me a little folded note after reaching into her pocket. Curiosity overcame my hesitancy.
Three lines were inside, neatly written in cursive:
Give a loved one a call.
Identify one positive aspect of today.
You will be surprised tomorrow.
I scowled. “What is this?”
“Homework,” she said plainly. Before tomorrow ends, complete those three tasks. If you wish, tell me about it later. Or don’t.
And with that, she was gone, leaving me with a note and a picture. A heart that seems oddly lighter.
The following day got off to a terrible start. My books were knocked out of my arms in the corridor. There was laughter. Tears were stinging my eyes as I tightened my fists—until I recalled the note in my rucksack.
Give a loved one a call.
I thought that was impossible. I had no one at all.
My mother had two jobs. I haven’t seen my dad since I was eight. Friends? Not at all. The lunch lady, Mrs. Patel, was the only one who even noticed me. And mashed potatoes were the main topic of that.
Then, however, I recalled what Officer Givens had said: someone who loves you. Perhaps love didn’t need to be difficult.
So I gave my grandmother a call.
Even though she lived far away, I felt like I was wrapped in a warm blanket when I heard her voice.
With a gentle and recognisable voice, she replied, “Hey, sweetheart.”
I muttered, “Hello, Grandma,” not knowing why I had phoned at all.
It was obvious to her that something was wrong. “Love, what’s wrong? Speak with me.
And I did. I filled her in on everything, including yesterday, school, and my feelings of invisibility and alienation. She did not interrupt as she listened. “Honey, the brightest moments often come after the hardest days,” she added once I was done. You’ll see.
She repeated what Officer Givens had said. I felt a little less alone once I hung up.
We’ve completed one task.
It was more difficult to find one positive aspect of the day.
Until my last class, when the teacher played a playlist as we worked, everything seemed grey. There was one particularly quiet acoustic song. Finding light in the dark was the theme of the song’s lyrics. I lost my whereabouts for a few minutes. forgot the agony. Simply listen.
My nice thing was that.
And will I be surprised tomorrow? I had no idea what to anticipate. However, I clung to the hope that Officer Givens had sown.
I made a new attempt the following morning.
My favourite jumper was on. I combed my hair. I actually took a peek at my reflection. I then packed the note and the Polaroid into my rucksack and left.
Officer Givens saw me beside my locker at school. Her eyes glowed.
She leaned against the wall and enquired nonchalantly, “How’d it go?”
I said, “I gave my grandmother a call.” And I discovered a music that gave me a sense of well-being. And tomorrow? I grinned. “I’m still awaiting that.”
She laughed. “To me, it sounds like progress.”
“Have you considered joining the art club?” she continued. They are trying to find new members.
Me? Art club?
I mumbled, “I can’t draw.” “I lack creativity.”
“That isn’t accurate,” she stated. It needs ingenuity to survive. Believe me, I am aware.
I believed her because of something in her voice.
So I went. I arrived at the art room that afternoon, holding my hoodie tightly like a safety net. I was greeted with a wide smile by a girl named Riley.
“Newbie! Greetings from chaos!
I laughed for the first time in ages.
I laughed a lot.
Weeks went by. Life changed, but it didn’t miraculously improve. My first true friend was Riley. Officer Givens continued to check in. And I began to open up, a bit more every day.
Officer Givens gave me another Polaroid one day. It featured me painting at an easel with a gentle smile on my face and colour streaks on my hands.
She remarked, “Look how far you’ve come.”
My eyes hurt with tears. She was correct.
I had changed from the girl who used to hide in the bathroom cubicle.
I was getting better. Slowly. Courageous.
And I had discovered something profound: kindness has the potential to transform lives.
Mine was altered by hers.
What I now know is that we all bear invisible burdens. And they feel intolerable on some days.
However, even a simple gesture of kindness, like a picture, a message, or a chat, can give someone the motivation they need to keep going.
Please share this tale if it holds any significance for you. Enjoy it. Give it to someone else.
Because simply by demonstrating your concern, you never know whose life you might impact.