"We're WHAT?" I yell.
"The promotion is all or nothing. It's either take the job and move or be unemployed and stay," Dad explains.
"I don't want to move. Everything is here! My friends are here! My school is here! My band is here! My boyfriend is here!" I continue yelling.
"Myka, honey, I understand that," Dad assures me. "But there's nothing I can do. We don't have a choice. We have to move."
"YOU don't have a choice! You're doing this because you want to ruin my life!" I dash out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaping onto my bed as tears stream down my face. I know that he isn't trying to ruin my life, that he had no other choice, but I still don't want to move. Ever since we had moved to Dayton when I was twelve, I've struggled to fit in. In the sixth grade, I found Jill, and we had become instant friends, sitting next to each other in band and history. Ryan had found me when he moved into the apartment below us at the beginning of eighth grade and showed up in my math class, dazzling me with his blue eyes and athleticism. Patrick was an outcast two years ahead of me who had wandered into my life during band my freshman year and had become a big brother to me. I cry into my pillow, trying to imagine starting over again at a new school without any of them by my side.
Five months later, I stand on the sidewalk outside our apartment building watching Dad wrestle the last box into the trailer before sliding the door down and slamming the lock shut. He half-hugs Jill goodbye. "Take care, young man," he advises the boys as he shakes their hands. Dad nods to me and climbs into his truck, leaving me to say my goodbyes.
Jill immediately runs into my arms, tears starting to roll down her face. "I love you, Myka. I'm going to miss you so much. I just want you to stay here." She pauses to whimper and sniffle a bit before pulling away and wiping her face. "But you have to go and we have to deal." Her melancholy rationalizing turns to anger as she laughs, "Don't you dare lose touch with me, lady."
I laugh, which helps to keep the tears at bay, and nod before she lets me move on to Patrick. From the day I met him, he's been the big brother I never had. He pulls me in to the warmth and safety of his chest and rests his chin on my head as he usually does. Unlike usual, however, he just holds me. After a few moments, he whispers, "Here's lookin' at you, kid." In those words, I feel everything that he means: You're going to do amazing out there, but don't forget about us. I'm really gonna miss you. He continues to hold me for a bit longer before kissing the top of my head and passing me off to Ryan.
My boyfriend stands with his hands in his pockets, his blue eyes locked on mine. A long moment passes before he takes a step toward me, wrapping his fingers around mine, rubbing my hand with his thumb. "I miss you already," he whispers, pulling me into his arms. His hug is the longest, but still ends too soon. He leans down to kiss me gently and I miss him as soon as he pulls away.
"I love you," I tell them, backing away toward the truck. They nod knowingly and watch, their eyes full of sadness as I open the door and climb into the truck. They wave as we pull away. I watch them until we turn the corner at the end of the street and they disappear from view.