My Very First Friend in Canada

What do you do when your only friend becomes your bully?

"Next month, we are immigrating to Canada,” my dad announced at the dinner table one summer night. I had no idea that daddy’s announcement was going to change me, and my whole life.

Knowing that I was moving to Canada only with my mom and dad was very stressful to me, for that meant I would have to separate myself from my grandmas, grandpas, aunts, uncles and cousins. It was really like leaving a secure and warm harbour for unknown, dark waters. As an 8-year-old Chinese girl, I was too young to be removed from the pampering of my grandparents. I was really worried: I did not speak English, except for, “hello," “thank you,” and “bye.” Would I ever make a friend in Canada?

The first few days after landing in Vancouver were not too bad. The sky was bluer, the air fresher and the temperature milder. People on the street sure looked different, but they seemed to look friendly. Some of them even greeted me - that was kind of weird, as I was a complete stranger to them!

But my fresh taste of Canada quickly turned sour. I didn’t understand the TV shows. I had no friends to play with. Except reluctantly going shopping with my parents once or twice a week, I hid myself in a small rented apartment, like a snail shrinking inside its shell. Despite the fine weather, I literally hated the summer.

But summer snail-crawled, totally indifferent to how I felt. I couldn't wait for the first day of school, imagining I would fit in and make new friends. My hopes were high and my enthusiasm great.

I remember myself timidly stepping into a class, full of strangers, fixing their eyes on me. My heart was pounding as if a rabbit were running inside my chest. “Don’t stare at me,” I wanted to tell them, but I didn’t know how to say it in English. I was speechless. I tentatively looked around the classroom and sat down by a table at the corner - just sat there quietly while everyone was having someone to talk to.

I was seriously waiting for a special someone to approach me and maybe start a conversation. I knew I could not speak English well, but I could introduce myself, “I am Laura. My name is Laura," I rehearsed silently. It wasn’t a surprise that my rehearsal never turned into a stage play.

Later that day, our teacher led us to the playground. I had no friends, which meant I had to play by myself. While everyone else was playing grounders, I was alone by the side, playing with pebbles. No one came to me. No, “Hi” or “Hello” or “Bye” - no nothing. That hurt me deeply. “Why did my parents decide to immigrate to Canada? I want to go home! I want to return to reunite with my grandparents!” I told myself in Chinese.

Another month passed by and I finally made a friend with a girl in the class, my only friend. At first she was attentive and sweet, and helpful when I was in trouble. We played together during lunch and recess, and we laughed and had lots of fun. One day, the teacher told us to find a partner to do a project with. I searched the whole room for her, and finally I spotted her at a corner of the classroom. I smiled and started walking toward to her. Seeing me approaching her, she panicked.

“Wait... that isn’t right,” I thought.

"Hey, Isabel, do you want to be my partner?" she yelled to another girl.

I stopped, petrified within just a second. I felt my body heating up with anger, but walked toward her.

"What Isabel? You never talked to Isabel! Aren’t you supposed to be my friend? Which means my partner?" I fired at her.

"So? That doesn't mean anything. Too bad, Laura, You just have to find another partner - I already have a partner." she said without hesitation, gesturing at Isabel.

“What did she just say? What had happened?” I couldn't digest what I just heard.

She never talked to Isabel before. But she chose Isabel over me.

I ended up partnering with a boy I hardly even knew, and trust me he was seriously gross. The whole morning I was sitting beside a smelly dumpster with foul odor while my first friend was having a great time with Isabel.

At recess, I tried to forget how she treated me in the morning. I came up to her and we went out for recess. But she was laughing and whispering about something with another classmate the whole time. I wanted to know what she was talking about. I wanted to know why she was staring at me every time she laughed.

It did not take very long before I realized that she became meaner and meaner. She was turning into someone that wasn't her anymore, or maybe that’s who she really was.

I still tried to give her smiles sometimes when I confronted her, but she returned them with cold glares.

"Hey, look what I brought today! Pocky, strawberry-flavoured Pocky!" I tried to catch her attention.

It worked. "Can I have one, Laura?" she gave me a fake smile.

"Sure, anything for you, my friend." I said.

She took one piece and ate it quickly. Then she took another... then another...

"Since you like it so much, maybe you should have the whole thing." I threw to her sarcastically.

“What are you doing? That’s your recess snack! Why are you being so nice to her even though she treats you like a nuisance?” a voice in my head shouted angrily.

Without even a “thank you,” she took the whole thing and demanded, "Since you are so willing to give me this, you will have to give me another one tomorrow, OK?"

“What?! What did she just say?!” I couldn’t believe my ears.

"Sure, I have a lot, so why not?" I lied.

“Laura, you big idiot” I thought.

The next day, I gave her my Pocky just as I promised, and she was satisfied.

"Can I have one?" I asked.

"No," she said, putting one in her mouth.

"But I gave it to you!" I was furious.

"Exactly. You gave it to me. Which means, this is mine now. And you can't have any, because it’s not yours anymore." She said coldly.

She made me speechless.

I really wanted to scold her: "You cold, selflish, arrogant, two-faced idiot!" But I swallowed it up and ended up with a helpless, "Ha ha, you’re right."

She didn't just treat me like a nuisance; she treated me like dirt, used me as a slave and pushed me around like I was nothing. She forced me to do things I didn't want to: give her my recess snacks, do homework for her, say prayers (even though I wasn't religious), and most serious of all, lie to my parents. She almost made me throw away my necklace because it was against her religion and she told me to lie to my mom about it.

If I didn't do any of these things, she would scare me with the same cold threat: "I won't be your friend anymore if you don't do it." She knew she was my only friend. She knew I would be the same old lonely self again if she left me. She knew I would obey her. And she knew I was just a toy she could amuse herself with. I hated her, I really, really hated her, but I knew that she was right, she was my only friend.

Three years have past. Now I have more friends in school, real, good friends. In retrospect, I really regret of not telling my parents about my first “friend.” How much easier it would be if I told my parents or my teacher about my painful experience? Thank god, my parents transferred me to another school a year later.