The Acceptance of Change

Chapter 12: Remember II.

"Hey, who are you?" Said Sam. The first day of middle school was honestly terrible for me. In elementary school, I had good friends. I would go over and play on their gaming consoles and we would genuinely have a lot of fun. It was the only fun I really ever ended up having before the death of my father. He never gave me much to do, but he allowed me to hang out with my friends, that he never said no to. Probably so he could drink more, but still. My father truly was never a cruel man. He treated me like a father should treat a son, and sure, every once in a while there was a slip up after some drinking. But he loved me, I knew that. He would always get me ice cream at McDonald's and let me grab a movie every once in a while from family video to watch with him. After he was sober he would always cry about what he had done to me, even if he would end up doing it again later on in the week after a few drinks. He was my father and I loved him, and he loved me. I know that to be true.

"Jonas," I responded.

"Hey Jonas." Said Sam. I was 11 then. 1 year since I lost my father. I had a lot of good friends before then. But after the foster care system, and switching schools, and also not having a phone. I was basically forced to lose all of them. Sam was the first good friend I made after I moved into my foster home. It took me months over the summer in between 5th and 6th grade to mentally heal enough to start making friends. But when I was ready, Sam was there. "You wanna go on the swings today? They're free right now so if we're fast enough we can call dibs." Without even thinking, I boosted my thin body off the ground with the propulsion of my right foot towards the swings, and with a smirk, Sam followed suit.

Day after day with Sam was a blast. My foster parents encouraged this relationship as much as they could because I began to be a happier kid at home. I was spending more time with my foster siblings, and holding lasting conversations. I was getting better. I was really proud of myself and never felt ashamed of it.

I never had any reason to talk to anyone outside of Sam, and I honestly didn't mind. Sometimes though, I was jealous of others when Sam would go to talk to them. Sam sometimes talked to a thinner boy with messed up blond hair and it did make me feel sad, but I didn't have to worry for long because Sam would come running to me not soon after.