The Junk Drawer

01. Mission Statement

01. MISSION STATEMENT

TACOMA, WASHINGTON

1400 HOURS

ROGERS RESIDENCE

➳

"I still can't believe you're moving when graduation is only three months from now, Gwen." With a huff, my friend Carlie threw herself onto my bed in frustration, knocking over the piles of neatly stacked clothing by her side into small mounds on the floor. I sighed at her and didn't reply, finally managing to drag my suitcase out of the abyss I called my closet. Face down in the light yellow comforters, her voice returned in a muffled groan, "You've only been living here since what, like the beginning of the school year?"

"Carlie, I told you already," I abandoned the suitcase and bent down to the floor, retrieving a light blue blouse from the ground before throwing it at her head. "I can't help the fact that my mom's job causes us to move around a lot. I thought warned you in the beginning of the year."

"But still, I'll miss you." Brushing a stray lock of auburn hair behind her ear as she threw the blouse back at me, Carlie peeled away from the mattress, moving into a sitting position instead. She swung her legs as I continued picking up the clothes she knocked onto the linoleum carpet. When I glanced up, a small frown adorned her freckled, pale face and her light green eyes shone — I could tell she was on the verge of tears.

Carlie was my first and only friend I made while living in Tacoma, Washington. The reason why wasn't because I was antisocial and hateful of the earth, which I'll hate to admit, I kind of was, but because I purposely avoided social contact for this very reason. I knew Mom would eventually pull the plug and suddenly announce our relocation, so I never bothered making friends since I knew I would just be leaving them anyway. It was a lonely life, but I learned from past mistakes and knew that I would only be hurting myself in the end.

Sometimes though, there would be that one person, a Carlie from Tacoma or a Jenny from Pittsburgh and maybe even a Savannah from Savannah— yeah, she would always yell at me for teasing— but the point was that there was always that one energetic, friendly, and genuine person that somehow felt compelled to befriend the new girl. Then for the rest of the time I spent living in that area, the two of us would become inseparable. Yet, those friendships were always the hardest to leave behind and the most painful to forget.

"Aw, Carls, don't cry." I frowned sympathetically, feeling my heartstrings tugging at the tears swelling up in her eyes. I stretched to my full length, covering the distance between us in a few steps, taking the seat beside her and scooping her into my arms.

"I'm going to miss you so much. You've practically become my best friend, Gwen." Carlie hiccupped as the tears finally began to escape, staining my cardigan. With her chin tucked into my neck, I patted her back awkwardly like a mother trying to comfort a child who was awoken by a nightmare. Pressing my lips into a thin line, I fought back from repeating the same words back to her, choosing to remain silent instead.

"Promise you'll keep in touch?" she added, pulling away to glance at me. Her eyes were red at the rims and her nose had begun to turn a slight shade of pink. I forced a smile, the gesture coming out more like a grimace as I pulled my hands into my lap. Muttering a low 'okay,' I tried to fight back the guilt from lying to her. With my family's current situation, Mom told me to abandon all connections from each place we stayed in, especially connections with other people.

I didn't even know what the situation was, but every time I asked, she would always reply with the same response, "Some secrets are meant to be kept." Words couldn't define how much I despised that phrase.