Personal Narrative: My First Experience After High School

My first experience with a school outside of the post was in Oklahoma. I was in the sixth grade. We had arrived at the end of the school year and the kids were all ready to be out for the summer break. My mom enrolled me in my new school anyway, about two weeks before summer vacation. I had wanted to go after summer but had to go before the vacation began, an awkward time for sure. The new kid, that was me. In the DoD schools, a new kid usually fitted in fairly quick, here it wasn’t so easy. When I walked into that sixth grade classroom, there she was, the dark curly haired girl that I had seen that morning in the office when my mother enrolled me at that school. She had become my first buddy. I had a friend.

Being the opposite of her, I would

He was a shy kid. He was not popular in sports. The kids generally liked him, and so did I. One of the first things I remember about him is that he was the kid who sat at the back of the classroom, always drumming on the desk with his pens and pencils. It was his mischief that bonded us so tight. He had a kind of brutal honesty that tested most friendships, but I appreciated it. I always knew where I stood with him. He'd always stick up for me in front of others, even when he knew I was wrong. Then he'd let me know what he really thought I should have done, giving me direction on who I should apologize to and how to avoid repeating the mistake. We were friends no matter what. There’s something about a great friend that makes you more comfortable and feel, well like a badass. They’re the perfect person to be yourself with. Sometimes it scared me how in sync our weirdness

It was the next year that the new girl moved to our neighborhood. She was a vibrant, beautiful, redhead that had the temperament that matched. And I knew I liked her. There was something in the way she smiled, a warmth, a genuineness, a softness in her spirit. I was often at her house when we were kids. It was a place to hide and I knew it, not once was I ever made to feel unwelcome or hurried out the door. It was a safe haven when the storm invaded my own home, my own space. The school was hell every day and home rocked back and forth between comfort and harmful. She was never just a good friend to me, she had been one of the rocks of my life - an anchor point. She and I would make up dance moves to the music by the pop singer, Prince and force her mom and little sister to be our audience. We would make them sit on the couch and watch us perform these dances that must have been terrible for them to have to watch, neither she nor I had any rhythm and we never actually practiced before we demanded an audience. Her family had a pool in their backyard, so I spent my summer days at her house. She and I were rebels. We would tell her mom she was spending the night with me and I would tell my mom I was spending the night with her and we would go spend the night with other people. We thought we had gotten away with it until her mom caught up to us one night and that was over, she