It was a year after I had moved to Jordan. My first year had been a nightmare, boy-crazed students, clothe-crazed students, makeup-crazed students, and popularity-crazed students. Aka, the oppisite of me. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t a loner, or a nerd or anything. I usually made friends just by being nice. But these kids were different, there idea of “nice” was my idea of “mean.” So yeah, long story short, I convinced my mom to homeschool me and I forgot all about those snoby, cool, mean kids. But this year there was no way I could convince my mom to homeschool me again, she barely had said yes the first time, I had to beg like a kitten whimpering for milk. So, it looked like I was going to suck it up and go to school. And, as if I couldn’t be anymore mortified than I already was, school was starting tomorrow, and my best friend Kate was in a totally different country, so one of her supportive pep talks was out of the question.

 

“Okay, so just be nice, OK?”My mom was sitting on the couch emailing someone for some I am sure, ridicuous reason.

“Mom, you don’t KNOW these kids, they LIVE for sucking out all the spirit out of some innocent person, they call you names, punch you-” Okay so maybe I am spicing up the story a bit, but I can’t help it, i’m an spicer-uper.

“Oh you’ll be fine. Your the sweetest person I know.”

“Your just saying that cause I’m your daughter.”

“Yeah well even I am i’m sure they’ll love you.”

“Yeah, HATE me maybe but most tripplily, totally, they will NOT love me.”

“Fine, If you want to be negative then FINE, but remember what i told you when you walk into class tomorrow and everyone Lo–”

“HATES”

“No, LOVES you.”

I stormed out of the room and slammed the room. Let me make it very clear that i am NOT a brat, it’s just it can be very stressful, if you are starting middle school tomorrow, have zero friends, and feel like a prisoner on a ship, getting ready to walk the plank. I shut off the light and eventually fell asleep, dreaming about some nose picker dangling their fist over my head and saying: “ready to get beat up??”

 

I woke up the next day, and got dressed in my jeans and pink and grey sweatshirt that I had been so obsessed over or the past week. Brushed my teeth, and brushed my hair. I walked downstairs and ate something (looking back, I can’t actually remember what I ate…)

“Okay Im ready, lets go”

My mom and I walked to the car and after a couple of hours-okay fine- minutes we got there. I took a deep breath, waved to my mom, and walked into the big wood door.

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