Short Story about Falling into the Wrong Crowd of Friends

I never understood how difficult it would be to leave the only place I called

home. I always thought I would live the rest of my life in Tennessee. One night at the

dining room table I realized that all my hopes of growing up with my best friends and

family were vanishing. It was a typical school night at my house in July. My

mother had set five place settings, and placed the spaghetti and garlic bread in the

middle of the table. My two brothers and I talked of what had happened at school that

day. Then my father stood up. He is not a big man, sort of short and on the bald side,

but something in his standing up made me take my attention off my spaghetti and focus

on him. My fathers face seemed scrunched up, like he had just taken a bite out of a

lemon. He had never looked that way before, and I knew he had something important

to say. "Were moving to Calafornia," he announced. It felt as though someone had taken

a hammer and was pounding my chest with it. I looked down at my plate and could feel

my garlic bread coming up my throat. I am an overall good

teenager, I grew up with the potential of being successful in the future, I was drug free and

never touched a cigarette in my life. I am five foot eight with shaggy blonde hair,

freckles all across my nose and blue eyes as blue as the ocean water. People outside of

my town would most likely call me a "hill billy" because of the way I dress, my usual is

ripped up jeans with a plain white t-shirt. When I found out that my family was moving

to California the place they called "Heaven" with beaches, clear blue water, big

population, big buildings, and of course best houses money can buy I wanted to seep

into my own skin and never come back out. T...

... middle of paper ...

...I wasn't Billy Jones anymore, I

finally realised that just because I had lost the two most important aspects

of my life, first moving to California, then losing Kyle doesn't mean that I

shouldn't try and make any new important aspects that can help me get over

all the pain I feel. Smoking, and stealing and overall being a bad teenager

everything I thought I would never be wasn't helping me get over my pain,

only numbing it for a little longer each time. From that day forward I tried

setting reasonable goals and reached them, for example, smoking only once

a day. It took me exactly 2 months of my own therapy work to get me back

as close to normal as possible, but I accomplished it which proves that you

shouldn't have to be a bad kid to get over your problems, and even if you

do you can always help yourself no matter what, look at me I did it!