My back pressed against the cold pavement. My best friend’s hands clenched each of my shoulders, pinning me down against my will. What did I do to deserve this?

I was the quiet one in elementary school, the shy one. The one who friended the outgoing people. The one who was popular by association. The one you kind of knew, but not really.

Since I was so quiet, I often spent my time observing those around me, and that’s how I would choose my friends. Typically, this would work out just fine, but there were a few special cases in which my observation skills would fail me and leave me helpless. One of which involved a girl named Sabrina.

Everybody knew Sabrina.

Crowds often surrounded her, just aching to hear the next joke that would escape her mouth. She’d frequently approach complete strangers and speak to them in a way that would make them feel like she knew them their entire life; the whole school idolized her. In this case, my perception of her was affected by the beliefs of essentially anyone and everyone else. Because of this, we became close friends. Close enough that I would invite her to my house and she’d thank me in the form of embarrassment. She’d rummage through my belongings, only to find my private diary and display it to my whole family, for the sheer thrill of it. The worst part is, I would let it go. I coped with my constant rosy cheeks and pulsating heart in order to let her have her fun, while I passively hoped that she would see my reaction and realize it wasn’t as hilarious as she perceived it to be.

That naive plan didn’t work out.

In the summer months, our elementary school had a carnival with bouncy houses, cake walks, field games, candy; virtually anything a small child could dream of. Though, I could’ve never dreamed of what happened to me during my 3rd-grade carnival.

My group of friends and I arrived at the carnival with confidence. We were friends with Sabrina. We were the ones that had the privilege to laugh and giggle and have a great time, because of her. Unfortunately, her comedic aptitude seemed to have expired when her means of comedy resorted to turning against her best friend.

To preface, my older brother Alex had a close friend named Roman. Like me, he was on the shyer side of the spectrum, yet, once he became comfortable with someone, he would turn into what seemed to be a whole different person. One day I saw him curled up in the far corner of the library, harmoniously reading a thick novel, yet the next day he stomped around Alex’s room destroying his laborious Lego creations he so carefully displayed on his shelves.

Now, to my knowledge, Sabrina and Roman had never met prior to the carnival; making her decision to support an acquaintance rather than her “best” friend even more troubling.

Sabrina and I headed to the gym to play some games before they shut down for the night. It was nearing closing time when footsteps began to thud behind me. I spun around to see one of my other friends with a panicked look on her face, completely out of breath. She warned me, “Roman... he’s coming! He’s… he’s going to kiss you! Run!” Before I had a chance to process the warning, I was knocked to the ground and forced into the concrete by my so-called best friend.

Now, it may seem like I overreacted, but I was in 3rd grade where cooties were still a very serious issue. I wiggled and bent and stretched and tried to push Sabrina off of me with all of my strength as I saw Roman creep closer to me with every breath. His wavy brown hair and thick-rimmed glasses were merely inches away from my face when I finally broke free of Sabrina’s merciless grasp and sprinted to my parents.

Later that night as I walked home from the distressing scene, the amount of information my nine-year-old brain was attempting to process was at an all-time high. My mind refused to stay focused on a single thought.

What just happened?

Why would Roman do that?

Did I upset Sabrina?

I thought she was my friend.

Not only did some random kid that I vaguely knew try to forcefully kiss me, but my so-called best friend had tried to help him, a complete stranger, instead of me.

It was in that moment that I realized Sabrina had not caught on to my reactions when she embarrassed me at my house. She simply believed she was being funny and making people laugh. More importantly, she valued the approval of others over me and our friendship; a concept I was not yet able to grasp. From then on, I knew to not only tell people when they made me uncomfortable from the beginning, but to also form my own opinions rather than basing them off of the perceptions of others. I made the realization that the only person who understood what and who was best for me, was me. Since that moment, there has not been an instance in which I neglected to establish my own opinion prior to taking others’ into consideration.