In 8th grade I met a person that assisted my percipience in the difficult ways of young women, and a person I continue to be great friends with. His name was Travis, funny story on how we met.
I had to take a leak and the boys restroom wasn't exactly the cleanest but I had to go. I walked in, there was a guy at the sink getting ready to leave so I figured I wouldn't be disturbed. I glanced at the urinals and noticed there weren't any dividers for privacy so I decided to go to one of the stalls. I do my thing and before I could finish I hear someone entering the restroom. They talk to the guy at the sink and suddenly I hear them ask about my shoes. I flush the toilet and walk out to see a tall, nerdy-lookin' dark skinned guy with glasses who happens to be wearing the same exact shoes I were.
We joked and laughed about a few things, then I left. I didn't see him until later that day after school. Coincidentally he lived directly across the street from me and we talked on the way to my house. He introduced himself to my mother out of generosity and told her that he wanted to establish the fact that he would be coming over often for a study partner, he had no idea school was just as difficult for me as it was for him. In fact to this day we still truly haven't "studied" together.
We spent the school year hanging out and when summer arrived, it was just more time to get to know each other. I went over his house quite a few and he did just the same for mine. We became familiar with the things we have in common and when summer ended it was apparent that we were good friends.
Before summer came I dated a girl by the name of Raychalle. Coincidentally, Raychelle had an older sister named Mary, Mary was dating Travis. Travis and I treated each other like cousins and yet we were dating girls who were blood sisters, there was a lot we had to share to one another because of it. By the time summer had ended, we felt like family.
We knew the school year ahead of us would be a new start into maturity, whether we like it or not. Before Junior High had ended, 8th grade students were introduced into a program called "Early college high school" where kids are put into a program to get their associates degree early and two years worth of college classes. I applied and didn't expect to get in but a month before school started, I received a letter saying I was accepted and I knew that this would draw me and Travis apart. He never applied and had to go to the regular high school, although the Early College building was directly behind the high school so it wasn't too bad.
Luckily I knew a few people that also got into the program but most of my friends were back in the main building. In a way I had that "moving feeling" again so to me it was yet another new habitat to evolve into. I wasn't eager to make new friends nor meet the teachers but I had to sooner or later.
The first day I was given two different schedules, one for regular high school and one for early college high school. I wasn't sure if the reason I had a regular schedule was because of me not getting into the program even if I got the letter, so I attended main building classes. On the second day, I was told that I was in fact suppose to be in early college so I attend their classes. I walked to class being intensely nervous for the 3rd time of the week and I hated it.
I don't exactly remember what truly happened when I arrived, I was too nervous to comprehend things so I blacked out. Before I came back to reality I found myself walking to second period and I noticed that first period was a blur. Wasn't long before class had started again and since I missed the first day I had to be assigned a seat. I showed the teacher my schedule to prove that I belonged in her computer class, she then attempted to pronounce my name and got it wrong as most teachers do. I corrected her politely and she showed me to my seat. The computers were numbered and which computer you sat down by depended on your last name alphabetically. My last name began with the letter C so I was near the middle of the first row.
