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Moving Day...

It was moving day, again. Just like clockwork, every couple of years we moved from one city to the next. I hated going from something settled and semi-content, to chaos and slight friction again. This time though, it might not be as bad. At least now I’d get a huge room. My own space, not even connected to the house. 

What had once been an office above the two car garage – at the new place – was now my room. Six hundred square feet all to myself. It was almost worth picking up and moving three weeks into my senior year. Almost. 

The move was so routine, I didn’t even glance out the car window as we pulled into the drive. I just got out, grabbed my pack, and headed back to the moving truck parked at the curb. I gave a slight nod to the driver as he opened the back, climbed up, and started looking for boxes with my name on them. 

“Raffin, be careful up there. Don’t overexert yourself,” Mom called from the car.

I rolled my eyes like always. 

“Never going to have any kind of life the way I am.” I muttered to myself, finding one box with my handwriting, and then two. 

“Look on the bright side! I’m sure there are lots of nice kids in this neighborhood. Maybe you’ll make some friends,” she added encouragingly. 

I gritted my teeth. Moving to a new town wasn’t going to change the fact that I’d never been much of a people person, but with each new place, she was always hopeful that I’d find someone outside of home to confide in. The fact was, I would have been happier if I could have just stayed in the darkened safety of the back of the moving truck, and never had to set foot on any school grounds again. 

“Need some help?” Dad was suddenly standing right beside me. 

I tensed, took a breath, and shook my head.

“Nope. Just trying to read Mom’s writing on this other box.” I squinted.

He grinned. “It says, ‘Raffin’s clothes’.” That grin turning to a smile as he placed a soft hand on my shoulder.

Actually focusing on it now, I could see the plain script. I grabbed the box and stacked it on top of the other two, my eyes already searching for another. 

“She means well Rafe. She’s just concerned. You’ve been a little weaker than usual today. All the stress. And maybe, some other things?” He murmured, a leading question.

I forced a smile. “Relax Dad. I’m just tired. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Then I crouched to pick up the boxes. I wanted to get out of there, fast. I was already down off the back of the truck, and half way up the lawn, when he called, “But listen to your mother,” with a grin. 

I rolled my eyes, as I reached the stairs to the space above the garage. A heart beat later, I opened the door to my new space. The air was musty and I sighed as I walked through the little foyer into my room, a box spring and mattress the only furniture there. 

I dropped the boxes beside the end of the bed and frowned. No use opening the one labeled ‘clothes’ until my dressers were up here. I set that box aside and opened another. 

As I pulled out my brand-new bedspread, tags still on it, I remembered why I had packed it myself. I held it up and frowned. Not even a week and the thing was in tatters, shredded seams and rips everywhere. This was the third bedspread this year. Mom wasn’t going to be happy about that. 

I dropped the thing back in the box, flopped down on the bare bed, and stared up at the ceiling. I lay there, enjoying the quiet darkness, and thought about tomorrow, my first day at yet another new school.

I glanced at the shredded bedspread again and sighed. If all went well, I would blend in with my peers, be just another face in the crowd. No one would ever know my secret.