How Far We've Come

Chapter 5

Over the weekend, I didn't do much. I pretty much lazied around for all of Friday and did my homework on Saturday morning. But, by Saturday afternoon, I had nothing to do. So, I did what I always did when I was bored- I became nostalgic.

It was much worse this time. Normally, I would look at my yearbook comments and think of how much I missed the easiness of the year before or how glad I was to have the friends I did. But, ever since I went to Prestwall, I kept pushing off my sadness for missing my friends. And that afternoon, it all flooded in.

I looked through the comments, page by page, line by line and created this perfect idea in my mind. I assembled all the moments I felt included and happy in my middle school, which while weren't plentiful were still present, and began thinking of how much I missed my friends. How much I missed going to school every morning and talking to them and being able to be myself. How much I missed hanging out with them on weekends. How much I missed being able to tell them anything and not having them judge me. And, before I knew it, my heart felt heavy and I was looking at the numerous pictures on my phone from the past three years.

Why had I chosen Prestwall? The people there were great, but they weren't inherently me. They were kind and inclusive, but I couldn't talk to them like I talked to my friends in middle school. They were... different.

I stayed like that for a long time, clutching my yearbook to my chest and re-reflecting the hard-pressed decision I had made a month ago. Was it really the right one?

I thought about it for hours. Only after I finished reading another book from my bookshelf did it all flood back to me.

The sixth grade was an awful year for me socially. One of my best friends from elementary school had gone to the middle school magnet and the other one had betrayed me in fourth grade. She had ditched me for the "popular kids." So, when I went to middle school, I was, most simply, a loser. I would sit on my own at the lunch table, reading a book or looking out the window. Sure, I didn't eat in the bathroom, but it was just as bad.

I would look forward to the days we had assigned seating because then I actually had someone to sit with. I would be the one person in class who had no partner and worked alone or with the teacher. During our overnight field trip called Outdoor Ed, I didn't have any friends to cabin with. The only person I talked to in my cabin was my mom.

It was torturous and awful and something I wished I could forget, but couldn't. The first half of seventh grade started the same way, until my mom pressured me to try and make some friends. So, I tried.

I had an Indian neighbor who would bike with me sometimes over the summer and she had a large group of friends. So, I tried to sit with her. But, her and her friends were like a posse with her being the Queen Bee. She purposely excluded me to make herself feel better. It wasn't bullying, but it was close.

If I didn't feel like a loser before, I sure did then. But, I still thought it was better than sitting by myself, so I stayed. I let myself be taken advantage of. My mom didn't know it was that bad until she invited them over for art classes. In front of her, they would only interact with me, but behind her back, they ignored me like in school. My mother was no fool. She saw right through them.

In an instant, the four girls were out of my house and I was receiving a long lecture from my mom about self respect. I went back to being the lonely girl at the lonely table. Things didn't turn up for me until I applied for the National Junior Honor Society.

When I got into the society with no problem, I met a girl. She had the same interests as me. We like the same books, were good at the same classes, and played the same video games. We were instant friends. Suddenly, my life had turned around. I had a friend, who would become my best friend, and I wasn't a loser.