I look out the plane window. Clouds fill the air, making it hard to see. Next to her is her mom happily reading. I have never been so sure that a trip could be so horrible.
My family and I used to live in a small town in Minnesota. The neighborhood was quiet and small. Everything we needed was within a 5-12 minute drive. Life was great there. But recently my mom and dad broke up. I took it pretty personally even though my parents told me not to. As a thirteen year old, I have to now leave my friends and the rest of my family to go to New York where I have to go to a new school and basically start my life all over again. We are moving for one reason: love.
Mom found new love with a new guy that I have only met once. I don’t know if I will ever be as happy as I was with my friends in my old house. I’ve never been too fond of city life; I’ve just never liked busy, loud environments. But mom and her new boyfriend, Thomas, decided to move to the middle of one of the biggest cities in the United States: New York City. They chose New York because Thomas used to live there and mom spent her first couple of years there, so they are both sort of familiar with the area. Thomas only came to Minnesota for a work opportunity but ended up not liking it, so he moved back, taking us with him. Mom and Thomas have been together for 3 years now and decided that to grow their relationship, we should all move back to New York with Thomas.
When they get out of the very busy JFK Airport, a warm breeze hits my face. A small ray of sun is barely visible through the thinning clouds.
“How are you feeling?” mom asks after a few seconds.
“I’m not sure,” I reply. “This is a … change. A challenging one.”
“Yeah, I know how you feel. I had to leave my friends when I was young too.” Silence hits us both. Only the sounds of horns honking and people screaming are audible.
When we get to the house, Thomas is waiting for us in the driveway.
“Hi guys!” he says. “Welcome to New York!”
“Hi!” mom says, running over to give him a hug. I stay where I am, trying to avoid any eye contact or social interactions. But that failed:
“Hello again …” he starts,“uh …”
“It’s Fern,” I interrupt, a little more aggressive than planned.
“Yes, Fern! I remember now. Last time I saw you, you were much smaller. It was like what … 4 years ago?”
“I don’t know. Probably,” I mumble and look over towards mom standing slightly behind him. She looks disappointed in me, but I could really care less. I need them both to know that I don’t want to be here.
“Well, come in! I don’t want to keep you out here,” Thomas says after a few short moments. The inside is actually kinda nice. It is a medium-sized house, the perfect size in my opinion. A small layer of dust covers any wood in sight but other than that, everything was nicely lit and cozy. But the huge problem is … boxes. We brought a lot of stuff here and so did he.
The couple months after moving in were bad. I can’t describe it any other way. Just bad. I didn’t know this Thomas guy that well if I knew him at all, and I had no siblings to talk about anything with, but my mom has been stressed with work or the lack thereof, and Thomas was just existing. That bothered me.
I was scared. I still am. I feel alone in a big city, I felt cozy in my small town. Nothing is right. Nothing is normal, and it never will be.
“You’re going to miss the bus,” Mom says loudly halfway up the stairs, “and I don’t have the time to drive you. I have another job interview this morning.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I say, rolling my eyes, even though she can’t see me. Five minutes later, I grab my backpack and race down the stairs. I put my lunch in my bag, fill my water bottle and put my shoes on.
“Bye, mom,” I say, walking to the front door. “Love you!”
“Love you too, sweetie! Have an awesome day at school. Take the bus home,” she replies, running over to me for a hug.
“Ok,” I let her embrace me as I see a glimpse of the bus pulling up near our driveway. “Mom, the bus is here, I have to go!”
“Ok, ok, go. Have a great day!”
I’m really not excited for this. I have no hope of making friends. I don’t even know if I want to make new ones. When I walk through the big wooden doors, loud talking and gasps fill the air. There are bright lights shining down on the halls and soft music playing in the main area.
“Oh hello! You must be the new student this year … uh Fern, right?” A plump, short, dark-haired teacher says, walking towards me and looking at her clipboard.
“Um …” I stood there, looking around the room, many emotions filled me, but it all led back to fear. “Yeah.” I tried but no sound came. I cleared my throat, starting again. Yeah, yeah, that’s me.”
