"Uh, you got a call from your counselor," said my German teacher. I went back to my seat, grabbed my backpack and left the German 2 room to laughter and jeers from my classmates. I was honestly puzzled. What did I do to deserve a trip to my school counselor? I was a good kid. Usually the kids who got sent to the guidance room were people who had got caught smoking cigarettes in the bathroom. The door to my counselor's office was slightly open, and I went though it. My counselor was sitting in a chair next to the window and there was a chair opposite her. I sat down in it, wondering what was up.
"Do you know why you're here?" asked Mrs Saddic.
"Not really," said I.
"Are you familiar with Henry? He came in here yesterday a little worried about you."
Crap. Now I knew why I was here. Henry was one of my best friends. He was brilliant and also somewhat famous--- he chatted with Jay Leno once and even interviewed Ari Fleischer at the age of thirteen. But it seemed he lacked the common sense to realize when his friend was making an offhand joke.
"Yeah, I know Henry. He's one of my friends," I said.
"Well, he said something about you wanting to hurt yourself."
"No, no this is all a big mistake. I wasn't being seri---
"He told me that after you received a 63% on a science test, you wanted to poison yourself by drinking all the algae in your science room."
"But I was just kidding around when I said th--
Needless to say, I spent most of the school day trapped in the guidance office answering extremely probing questions. My counselor probably thought I was depressed or something. I couldn't blame her. Just a few months ago some other girl in our grade had killed herself by overdosing on window cleaner. My counselor even suggested me to have a meeting with a psychologist, but thankfully my mother vetoed that. I was eventually let out three hours later, and angrily stormed into 7th period math class.
"How could you?" I asked Henry. He didn't reply, and our friendship fell apart right there. Henry's actions had incensed me pretty bad. What kind of fourteen-year-old kid would actually be so foolish to report something silly like that? Most friends would laugh it off as a joke, but not Henry.
As the school years passed, I often told this story that I called "the horrible quasi-suicide incident" to my other friends. They found it hilarious. But as I told the story more, I found myself laughing less, and viewing Henry in a more positive light. "What kind of fourteen-year-old kid would actually be so foolish to report something silly like that?" I thought three years ago. Now I found myself asking a slightly different question: "What kind of fourteen-year-old kid would actually have the courage and compassion to report something serious like that?"
Henry had actually genuinely cared about me. I am convinced now that not one in a million high school freshmen would have done the same thing. This "horrible quasi-suicide incident" had actually influenced me deeply. It taught me the true values of friendship, and how carelessly friendship can be destroyed. Every time I see Henry in the hallways I feel like going up to him and making a heartfelt apology, but I know he'd never accept it. My impulsive mouth had seen to that.
Excellent essay. Grammatically and mechanically pretty clean, and your point is very poignantly made. It flows well, is organized, and you use transitions successfully. One bit of advice though; talk to Henry, you'd be surprised.
