It wasn’t easy moving to America.

I’m sure many people won’t be able to understand.

My mom had to make the difficult decision. I moved here when I was only five. We were originally planning to come here when I was twelve, but because of the learning environment and air pollution, we decided to move much earlier than expected.

At first, I didn’t understand why. I would whine and cry, begging my parents not to force my brother and I to leave. I had friends, a nice class, and a crush who liked me back… but we don’t talk about that.

I was such a foolish child back then, not understanding how they were just trying to do what’s best for me.

But now I know. Not I know everything my mother sacrificed, everything she left behind. For a better life for my brother and I.

Then, I had a hard time settling in. New York City was a fast-paced place, and traffic didn’t stop for anybody. My mom never checked emails from school, since she wouldn’t be able to read them, anyways. Because of this, we missed many events, and once, we even went to school on a snow day! We walked half an hour every single day, through sun, and rain. And we did that for a year.

We had an aunt come over to help. And then, the small family of four moved to Maryland. There, we already had a house. There were plenty of rooms, and we lived with my cousin, Albert. At that time, I was convinced that he hated my brother and I, but it has come to my realization that he, in fact, doesn’t and probably never did… though I remember being quite annoying at that time.

When we moved again, three years later, it was to a much larger house ten minutes away, where I finally got my own room. I was nine. It was a bit hard adjusting, and to be honest… I got lost a couple of times. No joke.

At my new school, which was an all girl’s school, I had much trouble making and keeping friends. Even though I consider myself slightly oblivious in many aspects, I can see right through people. I can almost predict how a friendship would end, and even if it would end terribly, sometimes, I just take the risk anyways.

Some people think being mean is a way of showing you’re friends…

I don’t agree with that. I think it means you’re toxic, but you don’t want to be friendless, so you tell your friends that being mean to them isn’t a bad thing.

Those are all lies.

…And the people who are proud of being toxic?

Then they definitely are. It means you should stay far, far away.

Then, there are others who may seem nice on the outside, but are actually extremely selfish. They will never admit their wrongs.

Once during sixth grade, I was sharing a story idea with my best friend.

I was halfway through when she interrupted my angrily, demanding for me to delete all of it and rewrite, claiming that I “stole her ideas.”

First of all, I find that extremely offensive.

“Just because an idea is similar, does not mean I stole yours!” I replied defensively.

“I told you my idea, that they would be half Terran and half Syldrathi, and yours is the same!” She responded.

“But that’s not exactly and original idea! Tyler and Scarlet are, too—“ I paused. I’ve said too much.

“That was a spoiler, wasn’t it?” She scowled, annoyed with me. “You know I haven’t finished reading the books!”

I knew that a spoiler was too much for our friendship. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” I apologized quickly. No good friend would spoil anything.

She was still very frustrated with me and didn’t reply, instead continuing to work on her fabrication in silence. Our science teacher looked over, overhearing our conversation.

“It isn’t nice to spoil a book!” She said to me.

At that moment, I really wanted her to shut up and mind her own business. I wanted to say that it wasn’t my fault, that I just blurted it out.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” I forced a smile on my face so it wouldn’t seem like I was being too serious about it.

I thought that my best friend and I would be able to get over our problems quickly, but then she went and told my other friends that I was copying her idea.

The worst part?

They believed her.

I thought that they would ask for my opinion before confronting me together. They were supposed to be impartial. They were supposed to trust me. And they didn’t. They listened to her first. They didn’t listen when I tried to explain. And they wouldn’t let go that I accidentally spoiled the book for her.

Mind you, these were the people I thought I could trust.

From then on, I was wary.

I decided that I needed to speak up for myself. Even if no one else cared, and even if my opinion didn’t matter in their eyes.

I would talk.

I would tell them.

And then that only caused more drama.

I kept silent when they spoke bad about my Mentee, because they were allowed to have their opinions. I added my opinions too, and to which they disagreed with immediately.

But the moment I spoke out about this other girl, they were shushing me and telling me that I was being much too loud when she was a whole other table away.

Oh, so now I wasn’t allowed to talk?

What was it, then, when they were speaking about my Mentee, right in front of me, just as she was approaching our table? Just as she literally sat down next to her?

How was this fair?

How did this make sense?

And those arguments after? Those petty fights?

TBC IN PART 2