“Guys, guys.” says Ollie, trying to get our attention. My friends and I are sitting watching a Warriors game in Ollie’s garage. “Look at what Curry just did.” 

“Man,” says Samir in an angry tone. “Curry sucks this year!” 

Ollie hurtles through the air, and smacks Samir with a pillow, “What did you say?”

This garage has been the “hangout spot” for all of 8th grade. I lay down on the couch, wondering if this is the day that I tell them the thing I’ve been dreading to say out loud. Samir, Ollie and Oliver sprawl on the beanbags watching the game. Free weights are stacked up behind us next to the treadmill and the bike. The Playstation lights up as Samir charges his phone. Oliver comes over to me, and shows me a funny Tiktok. We laugh as the Chevron commercial plays in the background. 

As halftime ends and the third quarter starts, we argue about the All Star teams. Nobody can agree on who will win the game, team LeBron or team Giannis. 

“There is no way LeBron’s team loses,” argues Oliver. “With LeBron, AD, Doncic, and Harden you can’t guard that!” 

Samir tugs at his hair. “Are you serious dude! This year Giannis has been unstoppable. I’m picking his team no matter what.”

Ollie and I laugh as we realize this is never going to stop. The game ends and SportsCenter starts playing on the TV. 

I take a deep breath and exhale. “Guys, I have…there’s something I...I need to tell you something.”

About a month ago, my parents told me that my dad might get a job in Amsterdam. When I heard the news I was completely shocked. Since I have lived in the same house my whole life, the thought of moving felt like taking a charge in basketball and getting the wind knocked out of me. Since the day they told me, whenever I thought about moving to a different country, I would start to tear up. What would I do about my friends, my school? 

I finally get the courage to let out some words. “I might be moving to Amsterdam.” 

They all look at me and say, “What!” 

I start to tear up as I say again, “I might be moving to Amsterdam.” As I keep crying, my friends realize this isn’t a joke. As we all realize we might be separating, their smiles turn to frowns.

Samir and Ollie start to tear up as well. They turn to me and say, “What about baseball? What about basketball?” Their faces redden as they try to wipe the tears from their eyes. “How are you going to be able to play there?”

I haven’t thought about not being able to play those sports with my friends, or about how my dreams of playing in the MLB might be destroyed. 

The thought of leaving and losing my best friends is unimaginable. They have become family to me, and at this time in my life, separating from them feels impossible. I have known Samir and Ollie since we were four years old. At this moment, in their shocked faces, I see them in a state I have never seen before. I realize that I haven’t seen them cry since we were six.  

As we all calm down a little bit, Oliver says, “We don’t know for sure that you’re moving, Will. Let’s just hope and pray that you won’t have to.” 

“Yeah,” I whisper back. “I really hope so.” 

Boys can’t be vulnerable or cry with too many people. None of us wanted to lose guys with whom we could be vulnerable, with whom we could laugh, cry, and just have a good time. 

As we all sit on our phones, reflecting on what just happened, Trap Queen by Fetty Wap blares from Oliver’s phone. We all start to laugh as Oliver starts dancing and singing to the music. 

These boys will always be there for me no matter what.