It was a rainy dark day in the middle of November. I remember everything. The screaming, the agony, the blood. How Darla did it, 
I'll never know. But she did it. 
	I used to watch her from a distance as she sat on the cold hallway floor and cried. Time and time again it had happened: the laughter,
the practical jokes, the patronizing statements. I don't know how she took the madness that long. 
	No one ever spoke to her. They were trying to pull some sort of warped pathetic insanity trip on her. She got up, they stared. She sat; 
they gazed. How could one live under such scrutiny? I used to watch her walk home alone. I saw all of her melancholy ways. The way she spoke, 
muffled and quiet. The way she walked, head lowered and her hair a mess. She never tried to look attractive because she knew no matter what she did, 
none of those wretched people would ever understand the way she was. 
	Our high school is in the middle of a small town. It isn't heavily populated, so in turn everyone knew one another. But I, unlike Darla, just go
to school and do what I must to survive. If people talk about me, I really don't care. But poor Darla did care. She had too much love and too much 
compassion for other people.
	I said "Hello" and "Goodbye" to her, so I guess I was the closest thing to a friend she had. I guess that's why she confided in me.
    One Tuesday morning early in November, the weather was slightly crisp in this small town. I saw Darla in the hallway. Her ripped dirty jeans 
hung on her small frame like a silk shirt on a cheap wire hanger. I smiled and she came over to me. When she talked, her voice was low and raspy.
     
"Can I please borrow a pen? I think someone took mine."
"Sure," I said, without even thinking about my lack of extra pens.      

That gave her the opportunity to speak her mind.

"Do you know why they do this to me?" Dana said to me inquiringly.
"Do what?" I said stupidly, when I knew damned well what and why.
"Um... Like when they call me names and stuff?"
"Oh. .That! Don't worry about those people. They just don't have any hearts."
"But why??? I don't understand! I try to be nice and talk to them, but when I open my mouth to speak I always wind up saying something stupid. 
They all laugh at me."
"Well, you're just different and they don't understand that."
     
We stood there in the emptiness for a second and then the bell rang.
     
"Thanks for listening to me," Darla said.
     
	I replied with a simple nod. It was the most sincere gesture I could think of. We went our separate ways.
     
	The next day was cold and damp. There was a stench in the hallway air equal to death. As I walked into homeroom I heard a slight whimpering 
almost like that of a child's. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Darla down on the floor again. Her clothes appeared soaked.
There was an overwhelming burst of laughter in the small classroom. "She just had a little too much to drink!" said a raucous blonde sitting in
the front of the classroom.
     
"What?" I said with shocking arrogance.
"She was bending over to pick up her pen in the locker room and I just gave her some of my drink, we all did, on top of her head!"
	
The annoying laughter returned again. It was frightening to picture it, all  of those snotty little rich girls pouring their Evian water over
that silent angel's head. It was just so sick.

     I didn't see Darla at all the rest of that day. Some say she went home early, crying. I was just waiting to see what would happen tomorrow 
in school. I hoped that she was alright. She wasn't though. She definitely wasn't. 

	The next day was dark and rainy. The weather report predicted thunderstorms. I saw Darla in the hallway. I walked toward her and without a 
sound she gave me a carefully folded letter. 
The outside read: 
"Do not read until after 10:30 a.m. " 
     
	Darla hugged me like she had never hugged anyone before. I felt her small heart racing beneath her clothes. I knew something was wrong.
It began to thunder lightly outside. I watched the clock heavily during the morning hours. 8:30, 9:30, 10:25 the minutes went by slowly. 
At exactly 10:29 I heard a loud bang and an explosion of screaming. With my heart full of fear, I ran into the hail. I knew the sound was
that of disaster. As I ran around the corner to Darla's class and I saw her lying in a pool of red blood with a handgun in her hand. She 
had shot herself where the pain had been, right in her heart.
	I dropped to my knees next to her bloody lifeless body. Sobbing I said, "Good-bye, good-bye, my friend."

	The paramedics took her away. I walked away from the chaos and slowly home.
I waited until nighttime to open the letter.
     
It read:

Dear Kind One:
       I know you're probably wondering why I'm writing to you now. I had to do        
it.You liked me but that wasn't enough for me. I wanted them to understand        
but they didn't. I had nothing to live for. My father told me if I didn't        
get them to like me he would kill me himself. So I took the duty upon myself.        
I'd rather die now than fade away into non-existence. I guess you were my only friend, 
whatever friend means. Don't worry, I'm finally smiling.
       Never forget,
       Darla


	I guess this happening could be pathetic but really it was victorious. Maybe through her tragic suicide, the others will learn to 
become more compassionate towards the different ones. All Dana ever wanted was to be loved and accepted. I hope she is loved now.
Darla, I really do hope you are happy. There isn't a single day that goes by without a thought of you. If there is a heaven, I know 
you're there. Just save a space for me, Okay?