Sophomore year was a blur. As I think about it now, it still doesn't even feel like it really happened. I started the year on one side of the country and
finished it, after a break in the middle, on another.
I, of course, blamed my parents. Why would you make your children leave a place they call home and where they feel like they belong only because you want to "get away?"
"It's not fair! I don't wanna move!" I was hysterical. There was no way I'd let them force me to move away from the only life I knew, the one place I fit in. Nevertheless, in a month, we were on our way.
"Welcome to Montana," my dad said when we walked up the steep lane to our new cedar home. Sure, the house was great- huge, floor length windows, wood floors, beautiful deck, mountain views- but I wouldn't let that change what I thought about the move.
Junior year was almost the opposite. It felt like it dragged on forever. My family and I were just getting settled in our new location. I freaked out about my ACT, which turned out to be all for nothing- I did better than fine- and my parents constantly brought up the subject of college. I still had no idea where I wanted to go, and I wasn't sure what I wanted to go for, either, but I was going.
In Pittsburgh, our previous city of residence, I had many friends. I attended a high school with almost 4,000 students, and I had long ago found where I fit in. In Montana, I was struggling. The school was significantly smaller. Everyone knew everyone, and if you didn't grow up here, you're an outcast. Add in the fact that I'm extremely shy, and you've got, oh, right, nothing. I survived, though, and I was ready to finish my high school experience.
YOU ARE READING
Lost
Teen FictionWhen I was growing up, the idea of being alone had always fascinated me. I guess part of the reason for this was the fact that I lived in a house with nine other people. The wish to have your own room was undebatable. Nonsense. I also craved this c...