I know nobody says this, but eighth grade was a fun year for me. I transferred from the school I'd been going to throughout all of elementary and middle up to that point, and I was a bit sad about that. But I met an entirely new bunch of people, and most of them were actually nice. At this point, my best friend had moved across the country, and I wasn't very good about keeping in touch with anybody. I pretty much started from scratch as far as friends went. Fortunately, that went well. To my surprise, no one seemed to hate me, and I wish sometimes that I could redo that year now that I'm able to trust that people don't hate me. Because I'm not in touch with any friends from eighth grade, either. Sometimes I think of all the friends I don't talk to anymore and it makes me kind of sad. I wonder what they're doing now. You know what makes me happy, though? Enchiladas. But I don't have any good enchilada stories, so here's one about quesadill