Page 1 of Accidentally Falling For My Best Friend
1
PARKER
NINE YEARS OLD
Today is myfourthfirst day at a new school, and I’m only in the third grade.
This one is a fancy private elementary school in downtown Chicago. The building looks super old, and the snow covering everything makes it feel magical. My dad said it’s a really good school, but I’m pretty sure the things that make a school “good” to adults are different than what the kids there actually care about.How’s the food? Will I be the only kid with red hair again?
There’s a half-circle driveway in front of the building that’s used for drop-off, and it looks like most of the kids are in fancy cars with drivers. My mom pulls into the line, but it isn’t moving at all.
She turns around to give me a small smile. “It’s okay to be nervous honey, just be yourself. Anyone would be lucky to be your friend,” she promises me brightly.
I know that she means well and that she believes what she’s saying, but I don’t have the best track record when it comes to making friends.
“None of the kids at my last school seem to think so,” I grumble,looking up at the fancy stone building that we’re approaching.I wonder how old it is.
“That’s what’s so great about fresh starts,” she agrees while nodding. “Smile, be kind. You don’t have to be the most popular kid in school—one friend is really all anyone needs.”
“Okay,” I mumble, hoping to end this little pep talk.
I really like school. I love to read and learn about history, but math is my favorite. I love solving problems and doing puzzles. My dad and I do a lot of Sudoku, trying to see who can finish the same puzzle faster. Numbers have always made sense to me. My dad said that this school will be starting multiplication this semester, which is cool because he’s been teaching it to me for years.
My last school talked about moving me into classes with older kids, but my parents were already so “concerned about me socially” after moving schools each year that they decided to leave me with the kids my age and teach me extra things themselves.
I’ve always struggled with making friends. My hair is a unique color, and I have more freckles than most kids, but I don’t think the way I look would scare the other kids away. I just don’t always have something to say. It seems like the other kids are constantly talking and joking around, but by the time I actually think about a joke and understand it enough to laugh, they’ve all finished and are onto the next thing.
I don’t mind spending time alone, I just kind of wish that I had someone to talk to at school when Idohave something to say.
My dad tells me that there’s nothing wrong with taking my time and observing things. He says that I’m “analytical” and that it’ll be a great thing when I’m older.
My parents are hopeful that this school will be different. Dad works for a restaurant that’s been expanding to new cities over the last few years, and they move him to open the new locationsand get them started. After about a year, when they’ve hired local staff and know it’s in good hands, we move to the next location.
This time is supposed to be different, though. They promised my dad that the Chicago location is going to be more important than the other ones, bigger and hopefully more popular, and that they’ll let him stay.
So the pressure for me to fit in here seems more important than ever to my parents. The school has a uniform, so I don’t have to worry about having “cool” clothes, but my mom got me nice new shoes for Christmas that she said are popular right now, and she took me to get a haircut last week to make sure I look my best for the first day.
“You’ll do great, I love you!” she says confidently as we finally pull up in front of the school and I get out.
“Love you too,” I respond, turning toward the building.
My parents and I came a few days ago to tour the school and get all of the registration stuff done. It was still winter break for the kids, but the teachers were already back planning, so I was able to meet my homeroom teacher and see where my classroom is.
I make my way there and immediately notice a bunch of kids gathered around one boy’s desk. I can’t see much of him around the crowd, but I can tell that he’s talking animatedly, gesturing with his arms, and making everyone laugh.
I wonder what it’s like to be one of the popular kids… Do their parents ever have to tell them to smile, or give them pep talks about “being themselves”?
The teacher, Mrs.Ashley, notices my arrival and smiles warmly at me, gesturing to have me join her at the front of the room. “Good morning, Parker,” she greets me when I’m next to her desk. “I’ll just wait until everyone is here, and then I’ll introduce you to the restof the class.”
I give a tight smile and nod, awkwardly standing next to her, looking out at the other kids that I’ll be spending my time with.
A bell rings, and everyone moves to their seat.
“Good morning, and I’m happy that you’re all back. I hope everyone had a lovely winter break,” Mrs.Ashley addresses the class. “We have a new student joining us today: Parker Leighton just moved here from South Carolina. Despite the freezing temps outside, I expect you all to give him a warm welcome,” she adds, and a few kids snicker at the attempted humor.
There’s a general murmur of “hellos” from the class, and Mrs. Ashley directs me to sit in the only open desk in the room.
The desks are pushed together into tables of four, so that each desk has one directly next to it and is across from another two desks. I immediately realize that my desk neighbor is the popular boy everyone was crowded around earlier.
