Her name was Missy, and she was the coolest girl Iād ever met.
She came into town one day, sometime in June, and stayed for about four weeks. She never really said where she came from or why she was here. She was older than we were, but boy, was she cool. Sheād sneak us drinks, get us cigarettes, and somehow make everything feel like an adventure.
One night, we had a sleepover, and we went to her house. She wouldnāt let us come inside. We never understood why. She just said we couldnāt, so we accepted it.
A little while later, we went back, and she came outside covered in bruises.
She never mentioned them.
After that, she seemed to spend more and more time with us, as if she didnāt want to be anywhere else.
One afternoon I asked, āDo you want to sleep over at my house?ā
One night turned into another, and then another. Before any of us realized it, summer had slipped into fall, and Missy was still there. I never questioned it. To me, she was justā¦ there.
Then one afternoon, her parents showed up.
They told my parents they were ready to take her home.
I remember feeling confused. I hadnāt even realized sheād been living with us all that time.
My parents didnāt have a choice.
Before she left, we promised weād be best friends forever.
We pricked our fingers, pressed them together, and said, āOne, two, three, two, four, fiveā¦ twin sisters for life.ā
We laughed because it didnāt even rhyme, but that was what made it ours.
Then we spun around, giggled, gave a quick little spit for luck, tapped each other on the forehead right between the eyes, hugged, and smiled.
āSee you later,ā she said.
āYeah,ā I answered. āIāll see you tomorrow.ā
Somehow, I think we both knew we probably wouldnāt.
We never did see each other again. But I still carry her close to my heart, my best friend.
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