A Clean Slate

• Kyla Perez, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2014

You find yourself sitting at one of the picnic tables, watching as students tell their friends how much they missed them after two months of summer. You’ve never felt so out of place. Your thoughts linger on the fact that you could’ve been happily walking down the familiar hallways of your old school, greeting all your friends with a hug. Yet here you are, on the other side of the world.

The area was quickly filling up with students. The sheer sight of it overwhelmed you. All those unfamiliar faces were intimidating. You wonder how you’re going to survive this without your friends by your side. You’re in completely different territory and you have no idea what to do.

You think to yourself, recalling the time your parents told you about the migration. You didn’t overreact, you didn’t even think much about it. It was still a year away. There were still parties, holidays, school activities, and loads more to keep you occupied. So there was nothing to worry about yet, right?

Wrong.

Who knew a year could fly by so fast? Those moments passed you by in a blink of an eye, like someone hit a fast forward button. Before you knew it, you were sitting in a car headed to the airport, looking out the window, but instead of seeing the beautiful scenery pass by, you saw a film reel (like the ones in old movies) of all the laughs you shared with your friends, all the nights spent watching movies with your family, all the drama at school, all the sleepovers, the outings, the excursions – everything that happened in that single year.

The next thing you knew, you were already walking through the double doors of your new school on a whole different continent. All alone with no one to turn to. No friends to gossip with about who's dating who or to share your ups and downs with anymore. Those four years it took you just to make a name for yourself, building your reputation as a good student, gone.

You take out a book and stare at it, trying to look busy instead of giving into the urge of crying. It’s a daunting task to sit there among strangers. People immediately know if you’re new, like you have a neon sign on your head that says “NEW KID”. You despise the thought of having to start over again. After all, nobody wants a clean slate when you had such an incredible painting.

Pessimistic thoughts – like “What if nobody talks to me?” and “What will I do at recess if I make no friends?” – begin to eat away your confidence. So much so that it began to dwindle into non-existence.

All thoughts were put to rest when you look up to find a girl standing in front of you, grey eyes and auburn hair, holding her hand out to shake yours, “Hi, I’m Taylor. I haven’t seen you before, are you new here?”