Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Moving

The approaching clouds loomed forebodingly as I lean my head against the cold glass of the family car. Either that, or my mood is foreboding. The trunk is overflowing into my seat, and I am forced to sit with the family cat in my lap. For four hours. Needless to say, this has not been a very comfortable trip.
The box sitting next to me was labeled “BONUS ROOM” in black magic marker. There are more of these boxes in a moving van that was a good way ahead of us. The boxes are filled with all the belonging and furniture we had wished to bring with us to our new home.
Oh, how I hate the idea of moving. Leaving all my friends behind to head to a huge town where the only people I know are my cousins; going through the whole “being a new student” routine and trying to make new friends. I don’t want new friends, though. I have perfectly good ones back at my real home. Not this poser that we are pulling into now.
It is a good sized house. Smaller than my old one, but not tiny by any means. A nice color, good sized rooms- all the things people think would make it a good house.
People are wrong, of course. It is a horrible house. What was it thinking; that I would just accept it as my new house and move on? Not a chance.
Good; the movers are already here. They move the boxes quickly, and soon I have my room unpacked and organized. My Green Bay Packers bed is made and my clothes put away in my dresser.
Yawning, I look at the clock and realize I should probably get to sleep. My first day of school is tomorrow, and I don’t want to be tired- even though I don’t want to go.

I change into my pajamas and climb into my bed. The sheets are cold, but they warm up soon from my body heat. My eyes close, and I am soon asleep.


I feel happier this morning, almost excited for school. Then I realize where I am and what school I am going to. My spirits drop, and I finish getting ready gloomily.
Once I am done, I sit down to wait until it is time to leave for the bus. I put my feet up on the coffee table when my mom tells me I have to go early. She doesn’t like leaving me in the house alone, and she has a job interview to get to. That job interview is also why she had to register me early. I would be entering that school alone, like a soldier with no gun.
I walk slowly to the bus stop, trying to pass time. I have my ear buds in and am looking at my iPod, making me miss my neighbor saying hi to me. I look up after a few seconds and realize she is walking by me and waving. I remove the ear buds and we start talking. We pass the time like that until the bus comes.
She got on first and sat in the very front seat. I don’t, choosing a less conspicuous seat in the middle of the bus.
The bus ride is short. My neighbor and I are the last stop to get picked up and dropped off. Soon I am at the school, and I start shaking. I always shake when I am nervous, and today I am especially nervous.
I go to the office to get my schedule, and am sent to the guidance office instead. I sit there for a few minutes, waiting for the schedule, and the first bell rings. I sit for a few more; the second bell rings. I guess I am not going to 1st period.
Apparently, I am not even supposed to. I am to get a tour of the school, and one of the Teacher Aides was going to give me it. The counselor hands her my schedule and she leads me away.
We walk around the school for about 10 minutes, her telling me where stuff was and me listening absently. Then, she gives me a short quiz about where my classes were and I get them all correct. She can’t think of anything she forgot, so she leads me to a bench and we sit. 35 minutes are left in this period, so I start talking to her, finding out her schedule and generally getting to know her.
We sit there until the bell rings, and before she leaves, I ask her what she is doing Friday night. Definitely a bold move, but she smiles and says that she isn’t doing anything. I ask her if she wants to go see a movie and she agrees. We walk off our separate ways, each of us smiling.
Maybe moving isn’t as bad as I thought.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback