Pets n Story

She rolled into class on a Wednesday.

Hair tied up, school uniform perfect, and that bright green dress that didn’t quite match the rest of us. She had braces on both legs and a wheelchair with orange designs on the wheels, like little suns.

I remember thinking, She looks like she already knows something I don’t.

At first, everyone treated her gently. Too gently. Like she was glass. But not me. I talked to her like I would anyone else. Asked her where she came from. She smiled and said, “You already know.”

I blinked. “No, I don’t.”

And then she said my name.

“Eleanor,” she repeated, her voice soft but confident. “You remember me, don’t you?”

I stared at her, my mouth slightly open. My brain scrambled to place her face, but it didn’t fit. I had never seen her before in my life—at least not that I could recall. I hadn’t met anyone who looked like her, not in this school, not in the years I’d been here. But there was something in her eyes—like she was waiting for me to understand, like she was giving me a chance to remember.

“Sorry, I don’t…” I trailed off, embarrassed, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“That’s okay,” she said with a shrug. “I know it’s been a long time. You were very little when we last saw each other.”

I was more confused than ever. I didn’t have time to question her further, as the teacher called for us to get started, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this girl, the one in the wheelchair, knew something I didn’t.

As the days went by, I found myself drawn to her. Her name was Violet, and while everyone else continued to tiptoe around her, I found it strangely comforting that she didn’t expect that from me. We became friends—slowly at first. I helped her with her books, pulled out her chair when we sat down to lunch, and even rolled her wheelchair across the school yard when the weather was nice.

Her sense of humor was dry, but it made me laugh. She had this way of seeing the world as if she understood something most people didn’t, and she wasn’t afraid to say it out loud.

One afternoon, after school, I stayed behind to help her with some classwork. She always asked for my help with math, even though she was way ahead of me in most subjects.

“I don’t get it,” I said, pointing at a complicated problem. “Why is this equation important? What’s the point?”

Violet looked up at me, her smile never fading, and said, “You really don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what?” I asked, still confused.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she rolled her chair back and forth, her hands resting on the wheels. Then, with a sigh, she added, “I was just like you once. Not in a wheelchair. But I lived in a world full of questions and answers I couldn’t find. I used to be just as lost.”

I blinked. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I mean,” she said softly, “we were friends before, when we were younger. In another life, another time. And something happened… something big. It changed both of us. It changed everything.”

I stared at her, unable to process what she was saying. “What are you talking about?”

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she were deciding whether or not to tell me more. Finally, she said, “I’m not supposed to tell you this yet. You’re not ready. But someday, you will be.”

Her words hung in the air, and I didn’t know what to make of them. Violet had always been different, but now it felt like she was speaking in riddles. She would smile and joke about things that made no sense to me, and sometimes, she would look at me like she knew something—something that hadn’t yet revealed itself.

Over the next few weeks, Violet started to open up more, but in small doses. She told me about her life before coming to our school, about how she had once been healthy and full of energy, running around with a group of kids just like everyone else. But one day, everything changed.

“I was in an accident,” she said one afternoon, her voice barely above a whisper. “The doctors couldn’t fix it, not completely. My legs don’t work the way they used to. But that’s okay. I found new ways to live. New ways to move forward.”

It was the first time she had ever mentioned anything about the accident. I had always wondered what had happened, but I hadn’t wanted to ask.

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘before,’” I said slowly. “What are you talking about? How could we have been friends?”

Violet’s expression softened, and for the first time, I saw a flash of vulnerability. “You were my friend in the past,” she said, her voice low. “You were my best friend. But something happened… something that made us forget.”

She nodded. “We did. You were the reason I survived. I was meant to help you, and you were meant to help me. But we got separated.”

I couldn’t make sense of what she was saying, but the more she talked, the more I began to wonder if there was some truth in it. There was something oddly familiar about the way she spoke—about the way we interacted.

It wasn’t until one evening, when we were walking to the bus stop together, that the pieces started to fall into place. I saw a flash of something on her wrist—a tattoo, just barely visible beneath the sleeve of her shirt. It was a small, delicate symbol, something I had seen before. My mind raced as I remembered the symbol from a dream I’d had years ago, a dream that had always felt so real.

“Violet,” I asked, my voice shaking a little, “where did you get that tattoo?”

She looked down at it, then back at me, her smile more knowing than ever. “That’s the key. It’s the key to everything. You and I were connected long before we met again.”

The realization hit me like a wave. The dream, the feeling of déjà vu, the sense that something had been left unfinished—it was all coming together.

“I think I remember,” I whispered, more to myself than to her. “I think I remember us.”

Violet smiled, her eyes glistening with something like relief. “You’re starting to remember. I knew you would. It’s not just about the wheelchair, Eleanor. It’s about what we were meant to do together. The world needs us to do something important, and we can’t forget it. Not again.”

But just as I was about to ask her what exactly that was, something unexpected happened.

A car pulled up beside us, and a man got out. He was tall, wearing a suit, and he walked over to us with a look of urgency. “Violet,” he said, his voice tight, “it’s time. We’ve been looking for you.”

The look on Violet’s face shifted immediately—she was no longer the carefree, joking girl I had grown to know. She was suddenly serious, focused.

“This is where our paths separate again,” she said, turning to me. “I’ve spent my life waiting for you to remember, waiting for you to understand what we need to do. But this isn’t something you can do with me. It’s something you have to do on your own now.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, desperate for clarity. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “But I’m leaving you with the knowledge you need to find your own way. You’ll understand when the time comes.”

The man in the suit turned to leave, but Violet stopped him. She looked back at me one last time. “You’re ready now, Eleanor. Trust yourself. The journey you’ve been on was never just about me. It was always about you. You’ve had the power all along.”

And just like that, she was gone.

In the days that followed, I couldn’t stop thinking about everything Violet had said. Her words, the cryptic message, the sudden appearance of the man—it all pointed to something greater, something beyond anything I had ever imagined.

And yet, in my heart, I knew she was right. I had always had the power to change my life. The twists and turns, the dreams, the memories—they weren’t just coincidences. They were pieces of a bigger puzzle, and now, it was up to me to put them together.

I didn’t know what the future held, but I was ready. I was finally ready to take the next step.

If this story resonates with you, if you’ve ever felt like there’s more to your life than meets the eye, share it.