Making Friends

The first day of high school is supposed to be exciting. Nerve-wracking, maybe, but mostly exciting. For Anika, it was neither. She walked through the crowded hallway clutching her timetable like it was a map to survival, her backpack heavier than necessary and her nerves louder than the noise around her.

She had moved cities over the summer, away from her childhood home, familiar streets, and the friends she had grown up with. The new school was bigger, noisier, and more intimidating. No one knew her here, and she wasn’t sure anyone wanted to.

That’s when she saw her—Nina.

Or rather, Nina saw her.

“Hey,” the girl said, with bright eyes and a confident, easygoing tone. “You look like you’re either totally lost or about to cry. Need help?”

Anika blinked. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been gripping her schedule until Nina pointed it out.

“Uh… maybe both?” Anika offered a shy smile.

Nina laughed. “Same. First day blues?”

“New girl blues,” Anika corrected.

“Ah. That’s tougher. Come on, what class do you have first?”

“English. Room 204.”

Nina grinned. “Me too. Lucky you—you’ve just found your personal tour guide.”

Anika followed her through the hallway maze, grateful not to be alone. By the time they reached the classroom, they’d already discovered a shared love for fantasy novels, chocolate chip muffins, and an equally strong hatred for math. It felt natural, easy—even though they had just met.

They sat next to each other in every class that allowed it, traded snacks at lunch, and walked home together whenever possible. Nina was the kind of person who lit up a room without trying—always joking, always talking, always alive. Anika, more introverted and observant, found comfort in that spark. And Nina, in return, admired Anika’s quiet strength and the way she saw the world through thoughtful eyes.

What started as a convenient first-day friendship quickly turned into something deeper.

By the time sophomore year rolled around, their bond was unshakable. They had their own inside jokes, matching notebooks, and late-night FaceTime calls that stretched past midnight. They helped each other survive exams, heartbreaks, family drama, and the awkward chaos of being teenagers trying to figure out who they were.

Nina pushed Anika to join the debate team; Anika convinced Nina to audition for the school play. They cheered each other on, even when they were scared. Especially when they were scared.

There was one particular day—junior year, a rainy Tuesday—when Anika’s world seemed to crash in slow motion. Her mom had called during lunch with news: her grandmother, who had raised her for a time, had passed away. Anika tried to hold it together, but the tears came anyway.

Nina didn’t say anything. She just pulled her into a hug and didn’t let go. She walked her home in the rain without an umbrella, even though she had a math quiz next period.

That was the day Anika realized that real friendship wasn’t always loud or funny or full of words. Sometimes, it was just being there.

By the time they graduated, Nina and Anika had become each other’s constants. College took them to different cities—Nina studied theater in a buzzing urban campus, while Anika pursued psychology in a quieter town—but distance never dulled their connection. They visited during holidays, sent each other voice notes almost daily, and still managed to laugh like nothing had changed when they reunited.

And even when life got messy—breakups, missed opportunities, career doubts—they always found their way back to each other.

When Nina didn’t get the role she’d been dreaming of, it was Anika who reminded her of her worth, reading Shakespeare out loud over Zoom with exaggerated accents until Nina laughed through her tears. And when Anika doubted her future and whether she could handle her final year, Nina sent her a handwritten letter that simply said:

“You’ve done hard things before. You’ll do this too. And I’ll be here, always.”

Ten years later, Anika stood in the front row at Nina’s wedding, her eyes misty as she watched her best friend glow with joy. They had promised each other, long ago, that no matter where life led them, they’d always show up for the big moments.

Later that night, as they sat under twinkling lights with plates of cake in their laps, Nina looked over at her.

“Can you believe,” she said, “this all started with you looking like you were about to cry on the first day of school?”

Anika smiled. “And you looking like you owned the place.”

They both laughed.

“But honestly,” Nina continued, “I think I needed a friend just as much as you did. Maybe more.”

Anika reached for her hand. “We saved each other, didn’t we?”

Nina nodded. “Over and over again.”

Years would pass. Careers would shift, cities would change, families would grow. But their friendship—the kind that had been built on shared lockers, cafeteria lunches, heartbreaks, and healing—remained solid. Because some strangers walk into your life for a moment. But others walk in and stay. They become the sisters you choose, the mirrors to your soul, the voice that always says, “You’re not alone.”

Anika and Nina were that for each other.

And it all started with a lost girl and a stranger who decided to sit beside her.