Personal Narrative: Moving To Florida

When I walked in the doors of our house, I looked to the left where our couch was and saw my parents sitting facing towards me with nervous faces. I set my bag on the ground next to the door, and I set my shoes next to my bag. I slowly turned around and walked towards the couch, hesitant to take a step forward. Part of me considered bolting--running for the door. Their faces were plastered with anxiety, and I tried to think of what I had done. Nothing clear came to mind. Once I finally sat down, I looked at my parents and said, “What's wrong?”
“Ummm,” my mom says quietly, “your dad got a job, and it’s a good job where he will make a lot of money,”
“Ok, then why are you acting like it’s a problem?” I ask, unsure of why my mom was so nervous.
His voice straight-to-the-point, which caught me off-guard since his voice was usually calm and relaxed.
As soon as the words processed in my head, I realized exactly what this meant. Moving? To Florida? That meant leaving behind all my friends, moving to a place I don’t know, packing up my whole word into a cardboard box--do they realize what they’re doing to me?
“NO! I am not moving, I can’t just leave all my friends, I can’t just leave school with only two months left,” I said angrily. I got up and stormed to my room, I slam the door, leaving my parent’s by themselves downstairs. Once I got to school I go to my best friend and ask him for help. I tell him about my parents and how I was happy for my dad getting a better job, but the only part that I couldn't get off my mind is that we have to move. I know that my best friend also has moved recently from Colorado, but he moved here when he was four years old so he really didn’t understand what was going