Only one more week of 8th grade and the excitement for summer is unbearable! I can already taste the savory lemonade and popsicles. It’s my final year at Van Wyck Junior High, and I must admit that I will miss these halls. However, I am moving on to bigger and better things  like high school. Most of my friends are going to the same high school as me so not to much should change, but I cannot wait to have the real high school experience. I’ve read, seen, and heard about how great it feels to walk the halls of high school, but I can’t wait to experience it first hand with my best friends by my side.

Tomorrow, the whole grade is doing a bit of a practice run for graduation day, and for some odd reason I am rather nervous. So many thoughts race through my mind: “What if I trip while I am walking up to give my speech? Or what if I forget a part of my speech?” The anxiety is never ending, but I am still very enthusiastic about the ceremony, but I always get quite shy when I have to speak in front of crowds, so my emotions are going quite haywire. As these thoughts race through my head, I hear my mother calling me downstairs to eat dinner. I dash down the stairs as quickly as possible because tonight is Taco Tuesday, which is my favorite night. I plop down in my seat and watch my mom and dad bustle around the kitchen. When dinner is finally served, my mother looks nervous – she never looks nervous. In fact she is the calmest person I know. I decide that it is best to let it be and give her her space, but as dinner goes on, I notice both my parents seem quite anxious, so I decide to speak up.

“Mom, Dad, you’re both acting strange; is something wrong?” My parents look at each other, and my father nods. Now, it’s my turn to feel nervous. My mother explains that what she is about to say isn’t bad; it’s just new. I claim that I can handle new things, and I challenge her to lay it on me. My mother fidgets with her napkin then takes a deep breath.

“Sweetheart, your father has been offered an amazing job opportunity, but the position requires him to move to Florida, and your father is going to take the job, so that means we are going to be moving.” My heart begins to race, the room becomes blurry, and I feel like I am going to throw up. My mom explains that fresh starts are a good opportunity for new friends while my father tries to convince me that a new location would be a great learning experience, but I can’t listen. I run up the stairs and slam my room door. I don’t want new friends; I don’t want a new house; I don’t want a new anything! I begin to cry, and cry, and cry until I hear a knock on my door.

“GO AWAY!” My parents don’t listen; they come in quietly and sit next to me on my bed. I look up and see that they look very upset. They say that this is hard for them as well, but they think it is the right thing for the family. I try to understand how in the world this could be good, but I just can’t grasp the concept. They tell me that we need to leave in one month, so there is plenty to do, and they say if I have the right attitude, it’ll all get done a lot quicker. What they did not understand is that I don’t want anything to go faster. I just want everything to go back to it’s normal like when I was headed to high school with my best friends and planning trips to the beach with them on hot sunny days.

When my parents finally leave my room, I let myself cry some more until I eventually fall asleep. The next day at school everything seems grey, and I felt ten times more anxious about my speech at graduation. Now all I can think is how much I hate my parents. How can I make positive remarks about my school experience when I am so angry at them – at everything?

For the next few days, this continues to be my mood until I realize it is ruining my last days with my best friends. I decide that if I am moving, I better make the best of the time I have left, so I tell my best friends what is going to happen to me, and we all come up with a game plan. We plan days of fun in the sun and nights by the fire making s’mores. The more fun I plan with them, the more I forget about dreading the impending move.  

Times flies by and my house is sold, my friends and I have packed up all my things, and now there is nothing in my house that shows that I ever even lived here. I sit in the middle of my room remembering all the fun sleepovers and pillow fights I had had in here. I sit and think for hours until my mother comes in. I look her up and down, and she appears to have been crying. When I ask what is wrong, her answer shocks me. “I just feel awful for tearing you and your friends apart,” she sobbed. I sit and gawk at my mother. It took her this long to realize that?! The stunned anger plastered across my face must be evident as she jumps to explain herself.

“Darling, I know right now this seems terrible, but you have to understand that you’ll make new friends!” Does she not get that I’ve grown up with these people, and now they will be gone for good!? I tell my mother to leave, and I return to my memories. On the morning of moving day, my friends come to my house to say their goodbyes and then my mom, dad and I hop into our car and head to the airport. On the flight to Florida all I do is cry. I don’t even address my parents. I just can’t understand why this is happening.

When we arrive in Florida, I realize how warm and pretty it is, and for a split second I think I might actually be able to enjoy this, but then I remember who I left behind and the bit of optimism drains away. When we arrive at our new house, I find that my room is quite big. It even has a bay window seat, which I just love! I allow myself to feel joyful about my great room until my parents come in. Then I revert back to my angry and sad ways. They tell me that tomorrow we are going to drive past my future high school, and afterwards we are going to explore the area.

When I wake up the next day, I forget where I am and begin to panic, but when reality hits, my stomach sinks and I feel like crying yet again. I then decide that sulking all day in bed will do me no good, so I decide to go and get some breakfast. I walk into the kitchen and see my parents all dressed and ready for the day. While I may not be in bed sulking, I still am angry at them, so I say nothing and turn to get dressed. I lumber into the car, and we are off. The first stop is my new high school, and as we drive down the beautiful, scenic road, I begin to plan my new life ahead. Surprisingly, now that I have seen my new home, I feel a bit excited, but I still plan to never forgive my parents.

“Well, here we are!” My parents exclaim with big dopey smiles. I look up at the school, but it looks quite large – a lot bigger than my middle school. I begin to feel afraid again, and I start to panic.

No one is going to notice me here! I’ll never be able to make friends – it’s just too big. I’ll be a nobody!  I start to shout at my parents, taking every ounce of insecurity inside me out on them. I scream that I just want to go back to New York because I hate this place. They tell me to calm down and that they have one more stop for today’s adventure. I let myself cry until we arrive at our next destination –  an ice cream shop a few blocks away from my future high school.

When I arrive, I immediately stop crying. No one can eat ice cream without smiling, so my mood is instantly lifted. When we get inside, my parents start talking to me about how this situation isn’t ideal and that it may not be great at first, but the situation will get better as time goes on. Now that I know they understand my situation, I feel a lot better. In fact, in the spur of the moment, I decide to get a summer job at the ice cream shop in which I am sitting. I get up and ask for the manager. I figure if I am going to live here, then I better make the best of my situation. Who knows what will happen? Maybe, that school won’t be so bad after all.