Joyce frowned at a new pimple on her nose in the mirror. It seemed like her life was full with unfathomable issues at seventeen. In her school’s group chat, everyone was talking about the newest shoes, but she knew her parents would say no. Plus, Lucas, the kid she’d been pining on for months, passed her in the corridor without noticing.

“Joyce, dinner’s ready,” her mother said downstairs.

“I’m not hungry!” she shouted.

A creaky door opened. Sandra, her mother, entered with a dish and sat softly on the bed. “I brought this in case you changed your mind,” she added, her expression placid with years of parental patience.

“You don’t get it, Mom,” Joyce murmured. Lucas doesn’t know I exist, but everyone else has those footwear.

Sandra tucked Joyce’s purple hair behind her ear. “When I was your age, I thought the world ended every other week. You’ll perceive these moments as little bits of a broader image one day.”

“You always say that,” Joyce complained.

Sandra kindly replied, “Because it’s true. Don’t forget Aunt Elaine’s wedding tomorrow.

Joyce moaned. “Do I have to leave? Everyone will question me about college like I should know everything.”

“It’s just a few hours,” her mom sighed. “We sometimes help others when we don’t feel like it. Growing up involves that.”

Wedding banquet halls were decorated with flowers and pleasant lights. Joyce adjusted her simple black outfit in subtle protest of her mother’s pastel motif.

“Joyce! It’s been eons,” her cousin Ingrid murmured, floating in a delicate pink robe. “Your hair is intriguing.”

“Thanks,” Joyce said calmly, understanding.

Close by, relatives boldly discussed their futures.

“I’m going into law,” Tommy said.

“I’ll be studying medicine,” Ingrid replied. Dad is arranging my internship.”

Joyce, what about you? Tommy grins and asks. Trying to figure things out?

“I’m exploring my options,” she answered bluntly.

Joyce softly excused herself and went to the pool while they spoke. She relaxed in a lounge chair with her headphones and let loud, raw music drown out the world.

It was unclear how long she remained there until laughing and gasps interrupted her thoughts. An elderly lady fully dressed struggled to grasp onto the pool edge. Wet and heavy, her exquisite outfit clung to her.

Please assist her! Joyce yelled, but the people watched and laughed. A guy filmed with his phone.

Someone responded, “She probably thought it was the way to the bathroom.”

Joyce immediately took off her shoes and dived into the freezing water. She swam to the lady and hugged her.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” she whispered.

“I dropped my handkerchief and slipped,” she muttered, shuddering.

Joyce led and assisted her to the stairs. Once the danger was over, others came with towels. Joyce dried her off in the bathroom.

“I’m Wilma,” she said. Aunt of the groom.

“I’m Joyce. Elaine’s niece.”

“I can’t believe no one helped,” Joyce shook her head. “Just watched.”

Wilma smiled sad. “People today are so self-absorbed that they ignore others’ suffering. Our environment pushes us to concentrate on me, not we.”

Joyce felt the words deeply. She remembered her conflicts with her parents about shoes, phones, and other unimportant matters.

She murmured, “I don’t want to be like that,” her throat tight.

Wilma compassionately examined her, resting a wrinkled palm on her face. Then you’ve started. Your actions today define you. Keep following your instincts, and you’ll become great.”

Joyce felt a weird warmth—part remorse, part insight. “Thanks, Mrs. Wilma. I required that.”

Joyce changed quietly following the wedding, according to Sandra. She dropped in for supper without being invited and chatted. Once, she volunteered to assist her dad mend the backyard fence.

Joyce spoke out while doing dishes one Sunday.

“Remember when you said I’d see things differently, mom?”

Sandra grinned. “I recall.”

“I think it’s happening,” Joyce added. I’ve been preoccupied with unimportant matters. I never considered how hard you and Dad work.”

“That’s growing up,” Sandra said softly. “Seeing the world beyond yourself.”

Joyce nodded. “I think I know what to do now. Want to study medicine. I aim to assist, not impress.”

Sandra fiercely embraced her. “You are.”

On her first day at the university’s medical school months later, Joyce, 18, went across the busy campus. Her blue hair was more muted.

A voice called “Joyce!”

She turned and saw Wilma waving from a seat.

She rushed over, beaming “Mrs. Wilma!” “Why are you here?”

“My son teaches here,” Wilma said. “He told me you’d start today, so I came to welcome you.”

Joyce sat by her as fall leaves blew.

“I’m nervous,” she said.

Wilma grasped her hand. “You woke up early. Quite uncommon. Hold onto that.”

“Sometimes I still slip back into old habits,” Joyce said.

“We all do,” Wilma remarked. The direction we select matters.

She took out a tiny package. An open-handed silver brooch was within.

“To remind you,” she added, “that someone always needs a hand—and you can be the one to offer it.”

Joyce fastened it to her knapsack. “Thanks, Mrs. Wilma. For everything.”

Joyce touched the pin as she headed to her first class after the bell. That night at the pool changed her life. One act of compassion had opened a new route, and she understood more than ever that she wanted to help others.