It was bizzare how I had managed to make some many friends after moving so far away from the place where I had spent the first twelve years of my life. I was born and raised there, and yet my parents decided to move so ridiculously far away. I had no clue why, and now it seemed they were starting to question their decisions too.

"Why did we move here? Everything's so different," my mom said as she shivered, turning up the heater. "It's barely fall and we're whipping out our winter coats. Why couldn't we have chosen somewhere warmer?"

I'd been wondering the same thing. Why move across the country? What was the point of searching for somewhere perfect for us to live when they knew how much of a change it was going to be?

Some part of me was grateful for their choice, though. If it hadn't been for them moving us way out here, I wouldn't have met my amazing friends who just happened to be the very people that knew how to get me through the trauma I'd been keeping a secret since I turned eleven, and even a bit before then.

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