When Kyle had said, "Your mom's here," and you opened your arms, everything stopped. People were taking pictures, laughing, crying, trying to cram years and experiences lost into this one night. It wasn't successful, for the most part. We couldn't get you and Lindsey together because you couldn't arrive early enough. We couldn't make you wear Sarah's clothes or give you little makeovers. Maybe it was your parents' fault, who were dragging to that horrid state in the first place, or fate tried to intervene.

We had talked about people and places while others talked about last year's drama and lies. But it was so superficial. You were leaving! The only things we could talk about how so-and-so liked you, your parents thought you were gay, or how these two people had finally broken up. But were all these things really substantial? You were moving a thousand miles away, and people would miss you. And all Kyle could do was tickle and tackle people, like he didn't care you were leaving. The two of you were good friends, maybe even best friends, and he was just being so stupid!

Truth-or-dare had been pointless, along with never-have-I-ever- we knew each other too well for that game to be anything but reminders of stupid times or blackmail. And even though I had only known you for a year, we had gotten along pretty well, shared secrets and hopes, made everything ok for the other when something was wrong. We had done stupid things in a far-away state, ran around theme parks like little kids in a candy store, and marched in soggy, muddy fields like there was no tomorrow. We had mastered our photo pose together, and it was perfect-but we'd only done it twice.

You pulled me close, and immediately I was reminded of another time, where we had been the only two people in the world, and if there was anyone else, it hadn't mattered. Where life tasted like Chapstick and the only thiing I breathed in was Old Spice. And again, that was the only thiing I could smell. Old Spice, Old Spice, Old Spice. Your hair was soft and a little wavy, since Lindsey, Sarah, and I had braided it earlier. It was pretty funny though, especially when Sarah's parents walked down and saw you, Dan, with little French braids in your hair. It had only been a couple hours ago, but it was another time, when everyone didn't really realize how little time we all had left together. And we sat there, holding each other. I started to let go, and you pulled me closer. "Bye," I whispered, "I'm gonna miss you."

And then you said, "Me too." And at that moment, I knew, that something had ended just as quickly as something had started, leaving room for another start.