When I went into high school, I was nervous. I was also awkward. Although I know that these are common traits among freshman, but it was terrifying all the same. My third hour class was an intro to dance class, with people from various years all confined in the same room. For the first few weeks, I stuck to the one or two people I knew from my old school, and refused to branch out. But people just didn’t feel like letting me wallow in my loneliness. During the second week of school, an upperclassman walked straight up to me, and asked for a high-five, saying “Way to go freshman!” Assuming it was just a joke he could tell his buddies later, I rolled my eyes and started to turn away. However, this obnoxious kid was quite persistent, and finally, laughing, I gave him a high-five. The tradition continued and every morning when he would walk into class, he would yell “Way to go freshman!” and we would proceed to high-five. He helped me to become comfortable in not only my dance class but consequently my other classes as well, by introducing me to the “scary” upperclassmen.

A few weeks into school, I was surrounded by all my new friends, and he walked through the door. However, instead of yelling “way to go freshman!” like he always did, he pushed through the crowds of people until he was standing right in front of me, and said “I was wondering if we could take our relationship to the next level?” I was shocked. That was the worst pickup line I had ever heard. Not even sure that was what it was, the awkwardness bounced back in all its glory and I reacted with sarcasm, my go-to defense. “Sure! How about I slap you every morning instead?” I automatically regretted my childish response but held my ground with the stubbornness I was born with. However, instead of looking hurt, he just laughed and said “No, I meant can I give you a hug?” Of course I blushed, and while trying to think of something smart to say, he enveloped me into a 6’3” bear hug. And so a new tradition was born. I started to realize, I really liked this guy. He was always nice to people, his eyes always sparkled as the aftereffect of some joke or another, and everyone loved him.

One day I walked into my third hour, excitedly anticipating my bear hug. Everyone, even the class clowns, were silent. A friend of mind came over, and asked “Did you hear what happened?” Automatically, I assumed that one of the druggies at my school had been caught or something, so my nosy side took over as I tried to press for details. No one was saying anything. The final bell rang, and I noticed that my bear hug wasn’t there. I was a little concerned, but people were always skipping class to go to an appointment or whatever, so I didn’t sweat it. My teacher asked us to all sit in a circle on the floor. When we were settled, she told us that my bear hug had attempted suicide the night before. I sat in shock—she must be talking about someone else, he would never do that1 He was always happy and smiling and friendly, why would he do something like that? Once reality clicked back in, I couldn’t sit there anymore, not in the room where I spent all my time with him. I walked the halls with a fake pass, trying not t cry. I was breathing heavily and my face was red, and it was everything I could do to put one foot in front of the other. When I finally got back to class, my teacher just looked at me—she knew what I was going through. I got my bear hug two days later when he came back to school. He was the same as always, but no one else was. We spent our entire class period just being near him, thinking about all we could have lost. I was angry, but I couldn’t think of a reason as to why I would be. It wasn’t until weeks later that I learned that my bear hug was bisexual. The night he attempted suicide was the night he told his parents. The night I found out, I stayed awake for hours, crying. Not because he was bisexual, but because his parents were so unsupportive that they made him forget all of the people who did support him.

My bear hug is continuing his final year of school this year, and although we don’t have any classes together this year, we always make sure to say hi in the hallways. It still hurts every time I look at him though. The pain he must have gone through makes my heart ache. It’s hard to realize that bullying doesn’t just exist in school, it also exists at home, the place where everyone is supposed to feel safe. Maybe one day we will find a way to stop bullying once and for all, but for now, all we can do is wish strength upon those who must endure it.