The New Kid

Tribble is the kind of kid you'd think would have everybody scrambling to be her friend.  She's pretty, funny, smart, sweet, goofy, and artistic.  She has a cool fashion sense and just enough weirdness to be irresistibly interesting.  

She amazes me, and not just because she's my kid and I love her.  She's just amazing.

She has all these friends who are all unique in their own ways, from the Egyptian girl with the big black boots and YouTube following for her animated short films, to the Italian girl who loves horses, to the Sicilian/Irish girl who loves vampires, just to name a few.  This group of kids has always impressed the heck out of me.  They're wonderful.  They don't tease anybody, they aren't into getting blasted, and they let everyone be themselves.

We love them.

Here's the problem: they are in the town we almost don't live in anymore.  Tribble doesn't go to school with them anymore.  

She would likely love her new school except for that one, huge, glaring problem.

She's in contact with them over our super-slow rural internet, and will be in touch for real when we return to our house for the next month or so (getting ready to sell) but in the meantime, she's ready to hate school.

The kids are all "mall kids."  They all wear that Hollister stuff.  They all have straightened hair and obnoxious giggles.  They all stick together.  They text constantly.  They are boring.

Gah.  No wonder I have recurring nightmares.

This kid only changed schools once: last year, when she went to Grade 9.  Could we have picked a worse age to move her???

I am so sure that there have to be some slightly and delightfully weird kids at that school.   This town is smaller than the one she came from, but in my teens, this school was known as the "city school" and the other one in town, which my cousins attended, was the "farmer school."  I've told my kids they have the best of both worlds, living in town, but  spending a lot of time in the country.  They can relate to most other kids.  

I told Tribble that it's only the first day, so the other kids haven't had a chance to get to know her yet.  She says they might not bother because they already have friends. I tell her I can't believe that nobody will bother to get to know her.  She's so awesome.  They just haven't had a chance to find out yet.  When they do, she'll find friends.

I've told her this town is known for being all arty, and full of touristy stuff, so some of these kids have to come from tourist-trappy, arty, entertainingish kind of families.  They've got to be interesting, not?

She's not so convinced.  

By the way, Bucky is his usual cool self.  Hey.  Wtsup.  Cool.  All long curly hair and big feet and grass stained jeans.  It's not easy for him to leave his brainiac nerdy friends but eccentricity clings to him and he likes it that way.  They'll find him.  

I hope she's got kindreds out there.  

Anybody out there end up changing schools at the delicate age of 15?  Any advice for this heartbroken mother?  She cries, I ache.  It's like the cord's still attached, man.  I feel her every move.

After supper I asked her to come out to see the horses with me.  We had a lovely bareback ride in the dirt corral as the sun went down in the pink sky.  Tribble loves her little mare so much.  She neck reined her around with only a hackamore on the Little Lady's head, marveling the whole time at how cute and awesome her little sweet horse is.  

If only that horse could go to school with her, I might have a heart-mending solution...