Maybe We'll Just Pretend

There are certain people who you can tell anything to. The people who have been there for you, thick and thin. I know this all sounds cliché, but in high school, everything is a cliché squared.

My best friend is--was--Kendry; Kendry Redley. We'd known each other since my family moved into a house down the block from hers when we were five. Our neighborhood had a small park, and while my parents were busy helping the movers unpack, I had wandered down the street to the little slice of heaven.

She was on the swingset, pumping her legs as hard as she could. I sat on the swing next to her and waited for her to slow down. When she finally stopped swinging, she looked at me and asked me what my name was.

"I'm Davey Radcliffe and I'm five and a half. What's your name?"

She looked me square in the eye.

"I'm Kendry Virginia Redley. I'm five and three-quarters. Did you just move into old lady MacGreggor's house? You should watch out. Her house was haunted. Do you want to come over to my house? My mommy and I made rice krispie treats this morning."

She said all this in one breath, not once looking away.

"Sure," I said. She took my hand and led me down the street.

I knew right then and there my life would never be the same.