Oh hai there. It's Red again. With a biography sort of... thing. It's a real story. About something that's happened in my life. You know what? I'll just shut up and let you read. Enjoy.

~Red

"Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may I wish I might have the wish I wish tonight."

Since the night he left, I've always looked out of my window, saying this to myself, desperately hoping he'd just come back. Come home. Come back to me.

That was almost three years ago. He was this boy that lived right next to me. I met him when I was about six. I hadn't really talked to him, since I was a bit of an introvert, and I was shy. But I do remember our first conversation. And I will never forget it. One day, I climbed up the wooden fence that separated our backyards, and saw him playing in his backyard, in this little sandbox he had. I stared at him for a few moments, intrigued, before asking him, "Hey, why aren't you in school? I never see you go to school." He replied with,

"I'm off track."

He went to a different school than me at the time. But the school he went to had this track system. One track would be on vacation while the others would be in school.

He was a blonde kid with blue eyes and glasses. He was only a few months older than me, and for the longest time, I thought I was older than him. When I found out he was actually older than me, I was so in shock. He always looked younger than me. So I assumed so.

After that conversation, we hit it off. Everyday when we both came home from school, and finished homework, I'd head over to his house to see if he could play. It was all so much fun.

We helped shaped each other into the people we are today. I got him into video games, like Pokemon, Zelda, Mario, the basic games, and he taught me that your imagination is the best thing in the world. If I think about it, I can pretty much thank him for my imagination, creativity, and yearning to write. We would always play Pokemon, pretend we were pokemon trainers, battling Team Rocket. Sometimes, we'd even pretend we were Pokemon. He'd be Pikachu, and I would be Squirtle.

Then one day, I found out he was transferring to the same school as me. I was overwhelmed with joy. We didn't have the same class, but we always played together. He only when to the same school as me for about a year before he transferred to another school for this "gifted" program. I was a little sad, but I got over it. I mean, we lived right next to each other.

He was Mormon. Very religious. And he and his family didn't really shove their religion down my family's throats. He was generous, caring, I could honestly go on for days and days, naming just the good traits about him. But for the sake of this story, I won't. Though he didn't really have the "tough" image. Well, neither did I. I was one of the only girls in a whole neighborhood of boys. But, whenever he got picked on, I would stick up for him. It was quite the friendship we had. Best Friends. Forever.

Then we got a bit older, but nothing really changed drastically. We were still best friends, always playing Pokemon and Zelda and Mario, and other stuff normal eight year olds would do. I would often eat dinner at his house. His family was like my own. And I was like the "sister he never had." We'd give each other Christmas and birthday presents, and I'd spend at least an hour each Christmas over there instead of with my actual family.

When we both got Nintendo DS's, with Pokemon games, (He got Diamond, his birthstone, while I got Pearl, my birthstone) we became very competitive. We'd always battle each other. I'd usually win, being the Pokemon expert, but he'd beat me once in a while.

But one day, when we were both about ten or so, his dad got a new job. In Colorado. A few states away from where we lived. He apparently couldn't bring himself to tell me right away. He told me last. I was sad, almost depressed, for quite a while. I knew this boy for half of my childhood, and he was going to be thrown out of my life, just like that. We wouldn't go to middle or high school together. The idea of practically never seeing him again almost brought me to tears.

The day he moved, he gave me a small necklace, and a blank book. He looked at me with those sparkling blue eyes, and said,

"Write down our adventures."

We hugged. We even made a promise to never let our powers of imagination fade away. And the next morning, he was gone. Away. I cried. I stayed in my room for a while, not getting out to do anything.

Having him almost out of my life, sort of plunged me down into a depression state. I started getting darker. He was the light, the hope, in my heart, which has grown dark.

I still write to him and send emails, but it's not the same as hopping the fence and talking to him in my backyard.

I miss him.

He came and visited last year. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. We spent the whole day together. He had gotten braces. I got glasses. We changed, yet we were the exact same as we were when we were six.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Does this lead to something... bigger? Romance?"

No. It doesn't. He was, and always will be my best friend. Nothing more. I love him. Not in a romantic way. Like... friendship. Kinship.

And to this day, I always look up at the night sky, and say,

"Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may I wish I might have the wish I wish tonight."

*Wipes eyes and blows nose into tissue* Who knew I could be so emotional? Anyways, this story has been dedicated to my best friend, Nicholas.

~Red