My jaw dropped. There it was. My painting, hanging on the wall, a shiny first place ribbon tacked on to the side. Oh my god. How did this get here? Head spinning, stomach churning, I turned to Aaron in disbelief. “I’m so sorry,” he stammers, and drops my hand. “I couldn’t help myself. You are so incredibly talented, Kate; please don’t be mad at me”. My heart thumped wildly in my chest. Was this really happening?

Sorry, I’m getting a little ahead of myself. My name is Kate. I’m your average teenage girl, or at least that’s what I like to think. I’m tall and awkward, with dark hair and freckles. I just moved to rainy Seattle this August, and let me tell you, starting a new school your senior year is not fun. I’m an only child and my parents are super strict, but more about them later. We aren’t super close, as you’re about to find out.

There was a lot that I didn’t tell my parents. Not that I was a bad kid, but there were some things that they were better off not knowing. Like my art, for example. Drawing, painting, sketching, I did it all. I really, really loved it, but I knew that they wouldn’t approve. All my parents cared about were grades and appearances; they looked down on “petty” activities like art class. When So, I kept it a secret from them for years. I got good grades and stayed out of trouble. Little did they know I was spending my allowance on art supplies and hiding them under my bed. Art made me forget about all my problems; I could lose myself in a project for hours. I loved nothing more than the rich smell of paint; the soft, plush ends of my brushes melting into the color as I swept it across the canvas. To me, anything was possible when I painted. For once, I felt in charge of something in my life.

Everything changed when I started my senior year in Seattle. I met Aaron in my study period third hour, and we hit it off right away. To be totally honest, making friends always proved difficult for me, but Aaron made it easy. He was so easygoing and laid back; being with him felt so natural. The friendship, an out of the blue surprise, suited me. It didn’t take long for me to start confiding in him. For a regular teenage girl, I had lots of problems to deal with. Like I mentioned before, my parents put a ton of pressure on me. Like a ton. They expected nothing less than perfection, especially when it came to school and grades. “Kate, you have to go to Yale like your father and I. You know how much we loved it there”. Okay, mom; no pressure at all.

When I first told Aaron about my art, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. This secret I’d been carrying around for years was finally spoken out loud! I immediately swore him to secrecy; what would my parents think? I couldn’t even imagine. “This is so cool, Kate”, he gushed as he ran his hands over my oil paints. It felt so good to confide in someone after all this time. Aaron would ask to see my work all the time; we’d pore over them for hours. He’d tell me about dreams he’d had, places he’d been, and I would paint them. I finally felt like I had someone on my side, you know? Someone I could completely trust. It seemed so simple.

After a couple of months, though, Aaron started badgering me about my art work. Rustling through my paint brushes, he would randomly blurt out things like “Kate, I really think you should tell someone about your art”, or he’d slip pamphlets for art shows into my locker. It worried me how serious he was about it. The big town art show was coming up in a couple weeks, and Aaron was insistent that I sign up. “You’ll definitely win”, he’d say. “You’ve got nothing to lose”. I always refused, though. After a lot of begging, I eventually agreed to go to the actual show with him. Aaron convinced me that it would be fun to see the other artists in town.

I’ll always remember the day of the art show. The sun, warm and bright, shone down on us and warmed our backs while we walked up the street. With spring here, I was finally starting to feel at home in Seattle. I sighed happily as Aaron ushered me into the town hall, where the teen exhibits were displayed. I glanced through the crowd, scanning the walls; suddenly, something familiar caught my eye. The happy butterflies in my stomach fell in a cold heap. My painting stared down at me on the wall, the first place ribbon glinting in the sun coming in from the window. Completely shocked, I knew it was Aaron before he even opened his mouth. “Kate, hear me out before you get upset,” he pleaded. People around us were staring now. Fat, angry tears threatening to spill out, I glared at him. “How could you do this, Aaron?” I whispered furiously. I spun on my heel and walked out of the room, feeling betrayed.

As I sat outside on the warm steps of town hall, I had time to think things over. What Aaron had done was terrible. I had confided in him my biggest secret, and he had made it public knowledge. My name was on that ribbon; everyone would know that I had painted that piece. But, there was another side of this that I was willing to consider. Aaron was the best friend that I’d ever had, regardless of what he had done. “Maybe his intentions were good,” I pondered. As I brushed away a runaway tear, I realized something. Aaron was a good friend to me. He was there for me when no one else was. When I fought with my parents, he was the first person I would run to. Aaron only wanted the best for me, that much was true. He wanted to see me happy. Perhaps the reason he’d done this was for my own good. This was a shock, that was for sure, but maybe it was the push I’d needed all along. That tiny push could lead to so much; I could finally feel complete and accept art as a part of my life rather than hiding from it. I smiled to myself as I stood up from the steps and squinted into the bright sun. Today was the day I had secretly been waiting for.

Long story short, I forgave Aaron. Even though I yelled at him a little for going through my stuff, I know now that his intentions were good. He just wanted to help me, and I’m forever grateful. Betrayal is an awful thing, but I don’t see what Aaron did as something like that. Without that push, I’d never be what I am today. Aaron taught me a lesson that day: always asses the situation before you accuse. You’ll never know the true intent until you think about it. Not being so quick to act proved to work in my favor, because I realized something great that day. I no longer feel like I have to hide my true self. That feels pretty good.