After our exhausting walk and discussions about gyms, photography, and university clubs, we decided to rest in a nearby square. The atmosphere was peaceful: the soothing sound of the fountain, the sunlight filtering through the trees, and the distant music of a street artist gave the place an almost magical feel. But what happened next shattered that calm and confronted us with a reality very different from ours.
As we sat there, watching people pass by, I noticed a young girl, probably our age, standing near a flower stall at the corner of the square. She carried a worn-out backpack and wore simple but clean clothes, as if each piece had been carefully chosen to last beyond its useful life. Her light brown hair was tied in a hurried ponytail, and though she tried to stand upright, something in her posture conveyed vulnerability.
At that moment, an older man, clearly the owner of the stall, began raising his voice at her. I couldn't hear everything he said from where we were, but I caught fragments: "You can't be here begging," "This isn't charity." The girl lowered her gaze, trying to explain herself, but he kept shouting, drawing the attention of passersby. Some looked on curiously; others simply walked away, indifferent.
Olivia was the first to notice. She always has a radar for dramatic situations, but this time her expression shifted from curiosity to genuine concern. She stood up abruptly, ready to intervene, but Sack stopped her with a firm gesture.
"Wait," he said quietly. "Let's see what happens before we act."
However, I couldn't stay still. There was something about the way the girl shrunk under the man's words that made my stomach tighten. I approached slowly, trying not to seem intrusive. When I got close enough, I heard what she was saying:
"Please, sir, I just wanted to buy some flowers for my sister. She… she's sick, and I thought this might cheer her up. I don't have much money right now, but I promise to pay you tomorrow after my shift at the café."
The man snorted, incredulous.
"And you think I'm going to trust someone like you? Get out of here before I call security!"
The girl took a few steps back, visibly shaken, but didn't say anything more. Her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the straps of her backpack. Just as I thought she would run off, she lifted her chin with determination and murmured something barely audible:
"I'm sorry for bothering you."
She quickly returned to an empty bench on the other side of the square, where she sat, hugging herself. She seemed to be holding back tears, but her face remained expressionless, as if she were already used to this kind of rejection.
When I returned to Olivia and Sack, they had seen the same thing I had. Olivia frowned, indignant.
"Who does that guy think he is, treating someone like that? We should do something!"
Sack nodded thoughtfully.
"But we can't just barge in. We might make things worse for her."
That's when I made a decision. I approached the girl, ignoring my friends' silent warnings. When I reached her, I sat down without saying a word at first. She looked at me, surprised, but quickly looked away, as if afraid I would judge her too.
"Hi," I said softly. "I'm Lindsay. Are you okay?"
She hesitated for a second, then shook her head, still avoiding my gaze.
"You shouldn't worry about me. I'm used to it."
Her tone was sharp, as if she wanted to protect herself behind a facade of strength, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears. I extended a hand toward her.
"Well, I do care. And I think you deserve better than that. How about I treat you to a coffee? We can talk, or just take a walk if you prefer."
The girl looked at me distrustfully at first, but eventually nodded shyly. As we walked back toward where Sack and Olivia were, I gestured for them to join us. Olivia, being who she is, immediately switched into her "professional charmer" mode and tried to introduce herself extravagantly.
"Hi! I'm Olivia Hart, future magnate of medical fashion and expert in solving existential problems. This is Sack, the sarcastic one of the group, but don't worry, he's harmless."
Sack rolled his eyes but offered a small friendly smile.
"Just ignore Olivia. She's a lost cause. Nice to meet you."
The girl smiled weakly, though she still seemed uncomfortable. After a few minutes of light conversation, she told us her name: Ellie Miller. She briefly explained that she had just been accepted to Stanford with a full scholarship, but things weren't as easy as she had hoped. She worked part-time at a café to help her family, who lived in a small shared apartment on the outskirts of the city. Her father had passed away years ago, and her mother worked long hours as a seamstress to support Ellie and her younger sister, who suffered from a chronic illness.
Ellie tried to stay strong as she spoke, but I could see her voice trembling when she mentioned her sister. By the time she finished, Olivia already had tears in her eyes (something rare for her), and Sack looked deeply moved.
"Ellie," I said softly, "we know we're practically strangers, but if you ever need help, we're here. You don't have to go through all of this alone."
Ellie looked at us, surprised, as if she had never expected to hear those words. Then, unable to hold it in any longer, she dropped her mask of strength and began to cry silently. Olivia, without hesitation, hugged her, and though Ellie initially tensed up, she eventually returned the gesture.
When Ellie managed to calm down a bit, Olivia, ever curious, asked:
"So, Ellie… are you starting at Stanford this year?"
Ellie nodded, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.
"Yes, I just got the news. It'll be my first year. Though I'm still not sure how I'm going to manage working and studying at the same time."
Sack, Olivia, and I exchanged a surprised glance.
"Stanford?" Olivia exclaimed, incredulous. "We go there too! Well, technically we're about to start our second year, but still… this is incredible!"
Ellie looked at us wide-eyed, clearly shocked.
"Really? You guys go to Stanford too?"
I nodded, smiling.
"Yes, it's crazy. It feels like fate brought us together for a reason."
Olivia, excited, leaned forward.
"Listen, Ellie, I know things might seem tough right now, but trust me, Stanford can be a complicated place, but it's also full of opportunities. And if you need anything, anything at all, we're here. Think of us as your personal support team."
Ellie smiled shyly, though she still seemed a bit overwhelmed by Olivia's energy.
"Thank you… I don't know what to say. This is… a lot."
Sack interjected, with his usual calmness.
"You don't have to say anything. Just remember you're not alone. We've all been through tough times, and we know what it's like to feel overwhelmed."
Ellie nodded, visibly moved.
"Thank you… really. I didn't expect to meet such kind people today."
We stayed chatting for a while longer, sharing stories about our experiences at Stanford and offering her practical advice on how to balance work and studies. Olivia even promised to help her find a more flexible job on campus than her current one.
When we said goodbye to Ellie, we promised to stay in touch. As we walked back, Olivia couldn't help but comment:
"You know, this is epic. We just met someone who really needs our help, and she's going to be our classmate at Stanford. This has to mean something."
Sack nodded thoughtfully.
"Yes, it feels like Ellie came into our lives for a reason. Maybe we can learn as much from her as she can from us."
I smiled, feeling a mix of gratitude and hope.
"Definitely. I think Ellie will be a great friend. And who knows, maybe she can join the photography club you want to create, Olivia."
Olivia grinned widely.
"Exactly. I can already picture it: Ellie, capturing epic moments with us and making history."
We all laughed together, feeling that, somehow, this encounter had changed something within us. Ellie Miller wasn't just a new friend; she was a reminder that, even in the toughest moments, human connection can transform lives.