Yesterday I read Hilly’s post about how she intervened when she saw a teen girl about to be humiliated by a group of unkind boys.

There are many things we pretend we don’t see because we have our own problems, or we couldn’t be bothered, or it’s none of our business. How do you decide when it’s your place to get involved?

I knew a girl in college (let’s call her Hannah) who made a point of being friendly to “the quiet ones,” students like me who kept their heads down and often ate alone (hello first semester). Hannah was fun and quirky. I enjoyed her company.

Usually Hannah talked about light-hearted subjects such as how she had altered the lyrics of a Shakira song to teach math. She’d sing, I’d laugh, and a good time would be had by all. Then one day the conversation took a sharp turn into serious.

Like many of us, high school had been difficult for Hannah. Despite her bubbly personality, she was troubled by teen angst. She explained how she would rub the tip of a pen quickly back and forth against the edge of her desk, making it hot enough to leave tiny burns on her arms. That was the way to cope when no one understood.

While Hannah sometimes struggled with her emotions and the awkwardness of adolescence, she had her friends to see her through the tough times. However, she noticed that one of her classmates didn’t have the same support system. He was a quiet loner, just another sullen teenager to most people.

Of course, being separated from the herd made him vulnerable. He was frequently tormented by cruel classmates who couldn’t recognize their own insecurities. But that’s high school, right? So he suffered silently. What else was there to do?

Hannah watched him go through the motions of each school day and felt a pang. She told herself that she should become a friend to the boy. One day she would sit beside him, touch his hand, and tell him, “I get it.” She would let him know he was not alone. After all, they were not that different.

Classes. Yearbook. Parties. Football games. First dates. Drama Club. Homecoming. SATs. Honor Society. Prom. There was always something to do, somewhere to be. There was chemistry homework to be finished or a friend with a major crush crisis to be consoled. Hannah hadn’t forgotten her promise though. She would make the time for him. One day she would connect with that quiet classmate. One day.

And then one day he wasn’t in school. Maybe others didn’t notice, but she did. One day he just wasn’t there and nobody gave it a second thought. Not til the grief counselors arrived.

Although Hannah knew his suicide wasn’t her fault, she felt partially responsible. She had sensed his pain and wanted to help, planned to help, but he never knew. For all her good intentions, she never actually did anything. After that she always questioned herself. If she had given him her time, if she had been his friend on that one day that never came, would it have made a difference?