The Mover

“Son, we’re moving.” My dad said. I was so shocked, I almost lost my head. I could not believe that we were moving again. I immediately asked him “Where, When?” he replied “To Burroughs Middle School. We’re moving in June.” It was May, June was too soon. I really did not know why I was sad. We move all the time this shouldn’t be bad.

Once we reached Burroughs and School started to begin, I already knew I would not fit in. A week at a lunch table hopelessly alone, all I wanted to do was go home. The bell ranged, it was time to get on the bus, everyone was excited, but for me there was no rush. As I entered the bus, I realized that it was full. No one would let me sit because I was not cool. I began to shiver and my watery eyes turned red. I decided to be strong and stand instead.

Once I reached home and I ran straight upstairs. I slammed my door so my family would not see my tears. I jumped on my bed, under my covers, trembling in fear. Tons of homework but I did not care. I missed my mom and missed my past. Everything around me seemed to go by fast. Being at Burroughs was not a blast. I do not adore being a social outcast.

I can remember when I was between eight and nine, I had cancer. I was stuck in the hospital with many questions to answer. I felt paralyzed from head to toe with nothing to do and nowhere to go. There is no reason for me to cry, I did not know that there was a chance that I could die. Cancer is the reason I stayed back. I hated myself and I hated my life. However, I knew that I should be glad that I’m alive.

A few months later I began to smile. All the bad days were gone for a while. I can finally see that all my friends are here with me. No more sitting alone and no more wanting to go home. The best part is that on the bus I had a place to sit. I loved my life and was glad to be alive.

As soon as life began to become good, a malicious boy put everything back to the way it was. In front of the entire class he called me a cancer boy and then he pushed me on the floor as if I was a toy. I ran out the room and cried at the top of my lungs, I immediately knew that the worse had just begun. I did not want to go down without a fight, so I promised myself that before middle school ends I would set things right.

In eighth grade I set everything clean. I got good grades and joined the wrestling team I finally had a reason to go to school. I had hundreds of friends and finally felt “cool”. Everything was right where it was supposed to be. Two years later my dad says “Son we’re moving to C.T.”