Chapter 1

“Can we please go to sleep? I’m tired,” pleaded Natalie.

“No. I haven’t seen you in more then a week. I’ve forgotten what you look like. No sleeping. Let’s just…hang out.”

“Hang out? Andy, laundry is what hangs out. Do I look like tighty whities to you?” she whines.

“Natalie you’re the biggest party animal I know. Since when do you want to go to bed before the rest of the world? We can lie in bed if you want. Just stay up with me for a little bit longer.”

“Fine, boxer shorts. Let’s hang out. ”

She lies down on his bed and stares at the ceiling; waiting for me to join her. I walk over and nudge her so that she scoots towards the wall to make room for me. We lie on our backs in silence for a few minutes. Finally she rolls onto her side, and looks at me. I turn to meet her gaze.

“What hangs on a wall, is green and whistles?” she asks.

“Um, a talking portrait, like in Harry Potter?”

“No, you loser. A fish.”

“What? A fish doesn’t hang on a wall, isn’t green and surely doesn’t whistle.”

“You can nail it to wall, and paint it green. And I just added the last one so it wouldn’t be too obvious.”

“You’re insane! How is the riddle too obvious?” I ask and she laughs.

“I’m not insane, just a misunderstood genius.”

Her laugh always makes me happy. I have known her since she first introduced herself to me in third grade. I had look lonely she says. We have been inseparable since. She looked after me and I looked after her. She was the first one I told when my parents announced the divorce. And I was the first to know about her dad.

I turn back to the ceiling and focuses on breathing.

“If I could be anything I would be…dark chocolate. Bitters but still sweet and chocolaty. I’d be healthy and still somewhat unhealthy. So you can be good while eating me yet still feel like a rebel,” she says quietly and begins our ritual of the night.

It’s a game we play when it’s late and we are alone. We imagine all the possibilities of what we could and then give them reason and a meaning. We started playing the game when we were in sixth grade and have yet to stop. It never gets old. We try to outdo ourselves from the night before by coming up with more ridiculous fantasies. Sometimes it works sometimes it doesn’t.

“If I could be anything I’d be… you. Pretty, intelligent and artistic. Perfect.”

“Andy, you don’t want to be me. Trust me, I’d know.”

“Are you sure? Lots of people would like to be you. Why are you so sceptical about it?”

She looks away from me and stays quiet. A few minutes later I hear her sigh and feel the mattress move under her shrug. I hate shrugs. They were invented to make the secrets seem less unattainable. To offer some sort of lame answer to the questions that ask too much to be revealed.

We lie in my bed and remain silent. We rarely need words to fill the spaces in between; comfortable with just lying beside each other, feet hanging of the bed, legs touching and our minds drifting.

It’s getting late or early depending on how you look at it and I’m starting to get tired. There is a small movement beside me and I feel Natalie’s head in the crook of my neck. She curls herself around me in a way that is still friendly, and yet still close. Her eyes are closed and her breath consists of even and slow exhales and inhales. I reach for the night-light and pull the little chain. The room is suddenly dark. I stay awake for a long time; thinking. Mostly I think about how happy I am that my Natalie is back. Mostly I think about her.