I Hate Change Short Story

I hate change.
My whole life I’ve loved the constants that I lived with: my family, my dog, my house, the flowers in my backyard, my books, my music, my best friends. I lived happily when I knew that the things I treasured most would be with me when I woke up the next day.
Of course, as in any story, any life, this would all change.
My friends were some of the best things that happened to me. A jovial, opinionated band of smart girls, we stuck together all through Joyce Kilmer and Ramapo Ridge. For four years they were one of my life’s biggest constants.
This all changed during eighth grade.
The expectations were accentuated this year, piled upon them by their parents, teachers, even each other. It was always ‘be in the top classes, get into Honors Society, get into the best

high schools.’ This was constantly an object of arguments between us, for one of the expectations was that they would not go to Mahwah High School. No, they all had their sights set on Bergen Academies with at least two backup schools. My constant questions were why; ‘Mahwah’s a great school; they have amazing classes, an amazing music program; we’d be together’. Yet, they remained stern on their decisions no matter my poking and prodding.
All of my fighting fizzled away as the acceptance letters flew in: three from Bergen Academies, two from Bergen Tech, one from Englewood.

A cold dread would settle upon me whenever I searched for how I would be able to face school alone. No options would reveal themselves.
Summer came and went. We visited each other, sent endless streams of texts and photos, but I could not forget that I would never see them in school again. Until the last day of summer, I had never really accepted that they would be gone. Then came the fear.
I tried to push it away. High school was inevitable; I couldn’t cower a whole year in my basement no matter how hard I wanted to. Nothing anyone tried soothed me.
The first day of school dawned after I had. The morning was cold sunshine on a content blue sky. I was so despondent that I was crying; how would I be able to deal with a new school, with new teachers, guys with beards, and so many of my best friends gone?
I shuffled into the school and into the cafeteria. All my stress-saturated thoughts melted out of me as two of my remaining best friends waved at me from the table they were sitting at. I calmed myself down as I realized that she would still be here for

me.
In the classes where I thought that I had no one, there was always someone who smiled at me when I walked in, beckoning me over to sit next to them. Through the good, there was also the bad. I still had to deal with zero period, sophomores in my math class, gym. The people I disliked were still here. Yet, maybe, just maybe, I would be able to get through this.
I started to branch out, connect with and talk to people I had never considered before, or with people I had only spoken a few words with. I explored my own interests; for the past five years we had just been considered the ‘smart girls’, end of story. I found my own talents. I enjoyed myself more.
I finally matured and accepted that life must change (if there was no change, there would be no such things as butterflies). My constants shifted, my focus to a new group of people. I never forgot my original squad, though. The meaning of friendship finally became known to me, the best part of the whole journey: of knowing that we would still laugh when we saw each other, still be able to enjoy each other’s company, still be able to send a text after weeks of not seeing each other and engaging in a conversation as if nothing had happened. ‘After all this time?’ they would text, after I said that I had been thinking about them. I smiled. ‘Always.’
Maybe that would become my new constant.