I’m in the stands, leaning against the brushed aluminum railing. It’s a perfect night for a football game – on the chilly side, perfectly clear. I’ve already given up expecting our team to win, because they hardly ever do. For that reason, it’s so much better when they do actually manage to pull it off.

There is a collective cheer as something good happens out on the field.

Looking around, surrounded by people I love, people who have come to know me practically better than I know myself, I realize that these are the moments I’m going to remember when next year rolls around and everybody leaves. And it’s a mixture of contentment and heartbreak all rolled into one. All at once, I don’t know whether to cry or laugh.

Because if high school’s taught me anything, it’s how to make friends, not how to leave them.

Leaning against the railing, one of my best friends turns to me and says, “Your hair smells like fruitloops.”

I can’t help bursting into laughter.

Maybe we will be okay, after all.