Ode to Beginnings: Meeting My Best Friend
Pens click, chalk scrapes and voices murmur. Seventh grade holds a feeling I’ll never forget, no matter how much I’d like to. Anxiety that you can't place, and an itch you can't scratch, all while surrounded by strangers you’re sentenced to live with for six more years. Sitting in the corner with my short brown hair and oversized clothes, it was obvious to anyone that I was the new kid. Out of place. Holding my bright green hand-me-down iPhone with a crack in the screen that made it borderline unusable. This wasn’t unusual in this school. Ten kids to a classroom deep in the woods, 20 minutes from any other town. A new fishing rod was in higher status than the newest iPhone. It was only a few months before that I had a strong support system filled with, what seemed like now, an overabundance of friends. My family was a nomadic type. Moving from hatchery to hatchery around the state to pay the bills. Switching schools never bothered me. I considered myself quite adaptable and ...