“You’re not coming back here!” my dad greeted me as I climbed into the passenger’s seat of my dad’s truck.

This was not the way I planned to be greeted on the last day of my eighth grade school year.  Obviously something was up but I could not put the pieces of the puzzle together quite yet. Or maybe I was just blind to it, my mom worked at the school, or at least at that time I thought she did, there’s no way I won’t spend the rest of my now high school career here.

Next to the truck that I had climbed into was my field of dreams, bright green grass freshly cut, fresh chalk had been put down for the game tonight without a single interruption in the straight line. The mound and bags were bright white, as nobody had stepped on them with their muddy cleats yet. I was going to play there, I was going to do great things there, win games there. In the end I would, it just happened to be in the other dugout.

It was the longest ride home from school I’ve ever had, even longer than all of those days on the bus where we stopped at least ten times before I got off. You could hear a pin drop if not for the constant hum of the engine as the feet, yards, miles of road passed as I thought about what my dad had said, I didn’t dare ask him because I knew he was angry and in a bad mood and I knew better that to bother him when he’s mad.

After an eternity of silence we pulled in our driveway and I jumped out of the truck. I normally would do this, as it was the last day of school, but this time it was for a different reason. I wanted to know what was going on.

I sat down at the dinner table and my mom broke the news to me. She was being forced to resign from her job on no substantial grounds. At this moment I knew that I would have to start looking for a new school to attend in the fall. Not just because my parents had already formed a hatred for the school, I had started to fume myself. I’m sure that there was smoke coming out of my ears as my face became deeper and deeper shades of red. I could not, would not be able to go back to school, now that we knew what the people there were actually like.

That summer dragged on, it was no doubt the longest summer I can ever remember, each one of my friends I told became harder and harder for me. Although, by the time I had told them they were more like my enemies because of their affiliation with the school. There was nothing they had done wrong, I had to constantly remind myself. Not only because of them being affiliated with the school, but due to the rumors I knew were being spread about my mom’s resignation, it would be close to, if not impossible for them to stay friends. I had worked nine years to build great relationships, I did not know it should not take that long to develop good relationships.
My life, an unstoppable train wreck as I headed towards an unmovable force that was directly in front of me.

With a new school set in my sights, I walk through the four-wide, almost all glass doors knowing only the eight to nine people that were in my group a couple weeks earlier at orientation and one that I had played baseball with for three years. I found myself trying to maneuver through a maze of people to the table my teammate sat.

Soon it was time to get on another unfamiliar bus, where I sat behind all of the freshman, but still well in front of the sophomores. The sun’s rays came through the window and lit up the conversations they were having about the previous three months. Even though the whole bus was lit with the sunlight, somehow it managed to elude me. I sat in my own darkness as I listened intently. They did not know I could hear them say, “Who’s that?”, “Is he supposed to be on this bus?”, “Anyone know who the new kid is?”. Finally, one of them came over and introduced herself and started a conversation. It was at this moment that the bus rounded a sharp corner and the warm rays of sunlight finally reached my face.

That day I had no idea what my future had in store for me, nor what type of relationships I would develop with anyone there… I would soon find out. The one sitting next to me I would come to, and still do admire for being the first person to talk to me that terrifying day. The one in the seat directly behind the bus driver I always have had a great amount of admiration for the way they are willing to stand up to any challenge thrown their way and helping others with their challenges. The one across the aisle I would come to draw inspiration from in the way they handled dealing with a traumatic event. The one in the seat behind that always has a smile on their face and could bring one to anyone they are around. Two seats in front of me is the one who always knew how to make everyone laugh, even if they were a little annoying in the process. The seat directly in front of me sat the one who has always treated me decently, which I have a great amount of respect for, despite some of the differences we may have had.  The seat across them, two people sat together, two inseparable friends. One who is willing to stick up for any one of their friends when necessary and is there for anyone who needs support, no matter when. The other, who did not even remember me being in the same group at orientation, they have become someone that I can rely on to always be there whenever I need them and to be there as a friend always. That’s better than anything I had only three months prior.