Over the next few weeks, everything changed — not in loud, dramatic ways, but in small, steady ones.
At school, I started listening instead of talking. Actually listening. And to my surprise, people actually noticed — teachers, classmates, even kids I never knew. Niklaus and I became friends. Real friends. The kind of friends who laugh too loud in the hallways and share secrets on the way to class.
My old friends were pretty weird about it, though. They didn’t understand what a “nerd” like him had in common with me. I tried explaining how cool he was, but they took it with a grain of salt. These were the same guys who had slowly started drifting away from me. They didn’t call, they didn’t stop me in the hallway, and they surely didn’t invite me out like they used to.
They weren’t interested in hearing about my philosophy, and honestly, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to tell them either. I knew they would judge me — or at the very least laugh in my face. No way they would believe Plato visited me in a dream, so I joined a philosophy coven. How was I supposed to explain that to people so committed to staying the same?
I sighed and reminded myself that I used to be just like them. In most cases, guys like them — guys like Bobby Vono — didn’t want saving. I tried my best to stay close, especially to my best friend Owen, but they didn’t really meet me halfway. They just kept complaining that I was “too distant,” like I’d changed on purpose just to hurt them. I didn’t let it get to me. I had the coven. I had people who actually listened, people who wanted to grow. And for once, that was enough. I was truly happy.
At football, things felt more relaxed. I still went to practice and gave it my all, but I stopped obsessing over it. I didn’t care if I was the star player or just another guy on the team. I focused on my genuine love for the sport. I played because I loved it — not because I had something to prove.
I started encouraging my teammates instead of competing with them. I wanted to be the guy they could come to with anything — football related or not. I listened to the coaches instead of being a showoff. They really appreciated it; they even came to me for advice and let me give peptalks. But some of my teammates weren’t so grateful. They thought I’d gone soft and just didn’t care.
It was another game day, and I went in with a cool and collected mindset. I hyped the guys up by reminding them that as long as we played with integrity and tried our best, we already won. Everyone clapped and walked away. Everyone except Owen.
“Bobby, what is going on? What was that peptalk? Trying our best makes us winners?” he mocked, “It’s like you don’t care anymore about the spotlight anymore. This good person act is getting really old,” he whined.
I took a deep breath and calmly replied, “I just think there are more important things than being the best. Winning means nothing if there’s no goodness in your heart. I play football because I love it, not because I have something to prove.”
Owen laughed, “Whatever dude. Don’t be mad when I claim the MVP title.”
He started to walk away, but glanced back, “We’ve been on a winning streak since ElSalle. Don’t screw that up for us… again.”
It took every ounce of growth in me to maintain my composure. How could he be so rude? Then I remembered — that used to be me. My anger softened into sadness. I had treated people the same way he was treating me now. I took one more deep breath before stepping onto the field. I played that game with love in my heart. We won.
At home, things were better, too. I apologized more. I helped out more. I showed up more. My family could finally count on me, and that felt good. My mom kept asking if something was going on. Since I wasn’t hanging out with the football guys anymore, she thought something bad had happened. I tried explaining that I had just… changed. She didn’t believe me until she saw my first quarter grades — the best grades of my life.
We could both see how positively this new lifestyle was affecting every aspect of my life. One night she crept into my room and sat on my bed.
“Bobby, I am so proud of you. I have never seen you so devoted to being the best version of yourself,” she said. Her voice cracked as she wiped her eyes, “You listen, you help, you put people before yourself. You have grown and matured so much, and I couldn’t be prouder to call you, my son.”
Hearing those words felt incredible. My own mom saw my change — which meant it was real. I was motivated to keep going. I felt more at peace than ever before.
With the coven, things only got easier. I went to every single meeting — never late, always fully present. Things quickly picked up, and everything started to click. We talked about everything: identity, fear, purpose, beauty, honesty, ego, and so much more. No idea was too big; no question was too complex.
I began to truly cherish my friendships with everyone. Lyla was my wisdom — she sharpened my mind and kept me grounded. Coco was my encouragement; she made me feel understood and pushed my curiosity further. Anna was my kindness. She helped me see the world in a softer, brighter way and reminded me to carry myself gently.
Rhianna was my honesty. She challenged me to show up as my real self and stop caring how people perceived me. Hank was my humility. He showed me that winning isn’t about being the best — it’s about trying with heart. Niklaus was my example. He showed me what true friendship looked like. He accepted people exactly as they were, and he was the kind of person I hoped to become.
It had only been a few weeks, but I felt like I knew these guys my whole life. They were so different from my usual crowd — and somehow, they may have been the best friends I ever had.
With people I hurt, I tried to make things right. Let’s just say I had a long list of apologies to make. Apologies to the girls I’d led on, the guys I’d mocked, and anyone else who’d ever caught my disrespect. Some people accepted it, and some didn’t. But I was okay with that. What mattered most was that I showed up — even when it was uncomfortable. Especially when it was uncomfortable.
Two moments stuck with me the most.
The first was Polly. I was completely devoted to myself and not interested in getting back together, but I definitely owed her an apology. I called, but it went straight to voicemail, so I texted her instead.
Hey Polly, I just wanted to apologize for everything. You were right about it all — my arrogance, my close mindedness, the way I dismissed all the philosophy stuff. I was wrong for judging you. I am truly sorry for how I treated you. I am working on myself, and honestly, I couldn’t have made these changes if it weren’t for you.
A few hours later, she replied,
Thanks, Bobby. It really does mean a lot. I’m so happy you’re improving yourself. It takes a lot to change, so I am very proud. Take care!
Relief washed over me. I had hurt her the most and yet, she still forgave me. She was right about everything. I should’ve been more like her all along. This entire transformation started with our fight. I didn’t know it at the time, but that fight may have been the best thing to ever happen to me.
But I wasn’t done.
I didn’t owe Sonya J an apology, but I definitely owed her a thank you. She was the first person I opened up to — the first that listened without judgement. She believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. And she was the one that pushed me towards the coven. I owed her more than she knew
I didn’t know whether to call or text her, but luckily, I didn’t need to do either. I ran into her in town a few days later. I stopped and greeted her with the brightest smile.
Eventually, I took a breath and said what I’d been rehearsing in my head,
“Sonya, I just needed to thank you. For everything. You believed me. You listened. You introduced me to people who would understand me. You were the first person to believe I could change, and that means more than you know. I’ll be grateful for you forever.”
She smiled, “You did this, Bo. Not me. Maybe I gave you a push, but all this progress — it’s yours. I am so proud of you. And I’m here whenever you need someone. Remember that, okay?”
I smiled and pulled her in for a hug, overwhelmed with gratitude. I was so happy to have her in my corner.
And with myself, I was finally feeling the change. I changed how I talked to myself in the mirror — less cocky peptalks, more honest ones. I woke up every day with a positive mindset and decided to give each day its own chance. I took care of myself physically but also made an effort to be kind to myself.
I worked on consistency and balance. My grades improved. My sleep improved. My confidence improved. My self-worth was no longer tied to how well I played football, but to how I treated others — and how I treated myself.
I noticed all these changes in just a few weeks. I knew this lifestyle wasn’t a phase — it was my forever. It was another regular day, and of course, that meant football practice. The team had been on fire lately, and we were officially headed to the State Championship. And to no one’s surprise, we were playing ElSalle. Another rivalry game, except this time the stakes were higher than ever — the state title.
We’d been discussing another sneak play. I felt a lot of pressure; the last sneak play I’d been involved in had cost us the game. I wasn’t expecting to be a part of it this time, even though I’d been playing well recently. But to my surprise, Coach put me right in the center of it.
I wanted to redeem myself, sure — but more than anything, I wanted to encourage my teammates and play with heart. When I glanced over at Owen, he didn’t look thrilled. I overheard him whispering to some of the guys that I was going to lose us the game again. I stayed quiet and decided he wasn’t worth the argument.
We ran the play over and over again. By the end of practice, I had pretty much mastered it. I was excited but knew I had to keep working. The game was still over a week away — plenty of time to perfect it.
I walked into the locker room, ready to grab my stuff, when a few of the guys stopped me.
“Hey dude. I’m throwing a party tomorrow night. You should come and bring your new friends too,” said Tommy.
I blinked. That was… unexpected.
“Thanks for the invite,” I said cautiously, “But are you sure? I’m not bringing my friends if everyone’s going to make fun of them. I know they aren’t your usual crowd…”
Tommy looked down for a moment, then muttered, “Listen, man… some of us have been talking. And we kind of want to be more like you. You just seem so happy. We’d love to meet the people who helped you change.”
Pleasantly surprised, my face lit up, “I love to hear that. I’ll ask them if they want to go. Thanks again, dude. Hopefully I’ll see you there.”
