Narrative Writing Sample

When Maria Mariella Panontin first showed up at our school, here’s what I thought: “Look at that girl. She dresses like she’s some exotic gypsy or something. Looks like a real high-maintenance kind of girl. Not my type; I’m not going to bother trying to get to know her.” So I didn’t. Too late, I realized what a mistake I’d made.

Maria Mariella (she went by both names) was a foreign exchange student from Italy who was staying with a friend of mine, Joanne. Joanne and I weren’t that close, but we hung out in the same general crowd, so when the extended clique got together, Maria Mariella was often part of the group. We were friendly to each other, but we never tried to become friends until Shanda’s party.

I wasn’t planning on going to Shanda’s party because I had a big track meet the next day, but my friend Elaine convinced me to go for a little while. When I was saying goodbye, Joanne rushed up to me.

“Hey, Jenine, can you do me a really big favor? Maria Mariella needs to go home, but I want to stay. Would you mind dropping her off at my house?”

I didn’t really want to, but it was on the way, and I would have looked like a real jerk if I said no, so I said, “Sure, no problem.” Maria Mariella was right behind Joanne. I looked at her and said, “Let’s go.”

We hopped into my car. As I was pulling out of the driveway, I popped in a 10,000 Maniacs cassette and turned the radio up loud.

“I love this song!” Maria Mariella shouted over the music.

“Really?” Not even my American friends appreciated this band. “You like the 10,000 Maniacs?”

“I love them,” she said with her heavy Italian accent.

After that, it seemed like Maria Mariella and I couldn’t stop talking to one another and finding things in common. I loved that she was straightforward and honest, like me. She shared my taste in music and film. We both had crushes on the same movie stars. It felt like a friendship that was meant to be.

Then, just two weeks later, Maria Mariella threw a party at Joanne’s house. It was a going away party. Her mother had developed a serious illness, and Maria Mariella was going home to be with her. At that party, a group of us were playing Truth or Dare, one of our favorite games. It was Maria Mariella’s turn.

“Truth!” she said.

“Name something you regret,” our friend Denise demanded.

Maria Mariella pointed a long finger at me. “I wish I’d taken the time to get to know you sooner. I didn’t think you were worth my time.”

A sad smile came across my face. “I thought the same thing, Maria Mariella,” I said. “That is something I’m always going to regret.”