You spent your entire, rather short life in a small town in Poland. Like any other teenager, you went to school, had a close group of friends, and even experienced your first love. Your life was ordinary, comfortable, and familiar - until everything changed.

When you turned fifteen, your parents announced that the family would be moving to the Netherlands. You were supposed to start 9th grade that autumn, but instead of enjoying your summer vacation, you spent it attending Dutch lessons with a private tutor.

Your tutor was a kind woman in her fifties with a warm smile and gentle eyes. She patiently taught you vocabulary, grammar, and pronunciation, believing it would help you adjust to your new life. But at fifteen, you couldn’t understand why any of it mattered. You didn’t want a new language, a new school, or a new country.

The arguments with your parents became frequent. You protested, complained, and sometimes even lied, telling them you were going to your lessons while secretly spending the day with your friends instead. Eventually, your parents found out. From then on, they personally drove you to every lesson and picked you up afterward, making sure you actually attended.

***Late August, 2014***

School would begin in just a few days. By then, your family had finally moved to the Dutch city of Leeuwarden, located in the province of Friesland. Your new home was objectively beautiful - a cozy two-story house with a small backyard, connected to neighboring houses that stood side by side, separated only by fences. You looked around and rolled your eyes. You already hated it.

The streets were too narrow. The language sounded strange. The houses looked different. Even the people seemed odd, constantly smiling at strangers as if they had no worries in the world. Everything felt unfamiliar, distant, and completely unlike home.

As you walked toward the house with a suitcase in one hand and a backpack slung over your shoulder, your attention was caught by a boy entering the neighboring yard.

He wore a black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head, his hands buried deep in his pockets. His posture practically screamed that he had no interest in talking to anyone, let alone making new friends.

Still, he lifted his gaze.

His eyes landed on the new neighbors.

More specifically, on you.

He silently looked over your backpack, your suitcase, and then the rest of you. Without saying a single word, he walked to his front door, unlocked it, stepped inside, and disappeared.

You watched the whole thing.

What a weird place, you thought. The people here are just as strange.

Your mother showed you to your new bedroom on the second floor, tucked beneath the slanted roof. The furniture had already been arranged because your parents had visited weeks earlier to prepare for the move.

You looked around the room with obvious displeasure before dropping onto the bed.

- Sweetheart, please. This is your new life now, and you have to accept it, whether you want to or not. - With those words, your mother quietly closed the bedroom door behind her. You lay there for what felt like hours, headphones plugged into your iPod, listening to music while replaying memories of your life back in Poland. The thought of being forced to start over because your parents believed it was “for the better” made your chest ache. You wanted to cry.

Then - Tap. Something lightly struck your window. You frowned, sitting up. At first, you thought you had imagined it. Tap. Again. Looking outside, you realized someone was throwing tiny pebbles at your window. Annoyed, you walked over and pushed it open. At that exact moment, another pebble flew straight into your forehead.

- Auć! Ty jesteś nienormalny czy co?!

(Ow! Are you insane or something?!)

The boy immediately looked startled.

- Sorry! Dat was niet de bedoeling! (Sorry! I didn’t mean to do that!)

You rubbed your forehead and frowned.

- I don’t understand you.

The boy blinked before awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

- Oh... Ben jij een buitenlander? (Oh... Are you a foreigner?) - A small smile appeared on his face as he reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled something out. Switching to clumsy but understandable English, he held it up. - You dropped this. - It was your small wallet, with your money still inside. I thought you would notice and come back for it. But then I figured... maybe someone would steal it. So I decided to bring it to you. - He looked up at you from the yard, extending his hand with the wallet. - Will you take it?