Hands opening, a flower-bud exposing

Itself to the wind and the sun.

“Friends?” the blonde girl with pigtails tied in pink plastic asks

The question

Hangs

In the air like a feather waiting to fall.

Eleven years later

First-grade recess long forgotten

The scars she gave me still ugly

On my heart

“By Their Drum Major, Senior Emily Neiley!”

Am I really that old?

Yes.

Six hours later

Biscuits and Jam at Two in the Morning: A tradition in the making

Like Butterbeer and dressing up:

Me in drag,

Her with bushy hair.

Turner and Tavington

Evangeline and Will

Bellatrix and Whipped Roddy

Sally and Evie

We are the DYNAMIC DUO

No tattoos yet

But space reserved

For sixteenth notes on our shoulders

Dark Marks on our legs

With treble clefs for snakes.

I go to college in a little under a

Year

I’ll be a music major a year before her

And I’ll come home

And harass the band

I don’t want to leave now

I wanted so badly to get

Out

Last year

And now friendship

The first I’ve known

Gives me something to hold on to.