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Laine leans over and rubs my arm, her eyes soft with sympathy.

“Once I got older and my mom told me what really happened, the sadness turned to anger. Angry that someone I thought I knew so well and looked up to turned out to be someone I didn’t even everything he ever wanted—or at wanted.

recognize. He had least I thought he

“He had a stable job, a loving wife, and a kid he had waited for so long to bring into his family. But he changed. He threw all of that away on a whim. A whim of a rocky career in real estate—something he showed no interest in before. It’s like he was having a midlife crisis or something, stuck on the things he didn’t do instead of appreciating and cherishing the things he did.”

“Wow.” Laine breathes out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry.” “I mean, it’s fine now. I have my mom, and she always tries her best to make up for everything I lost when he left.”

The air feels crisper, and I wish more than anything right now that I could pull Laine in for warmth just like she did so casually at the cabin. The wood chips pierce my bottom as I move to the ground, curling up in a ball with my knees pulled up to my chin and my arms tucked around them.

Surprisingly, Laine joins me on the ground, scooting close to me and resting her head on my shoulder.

“You know, I was a wreck this morning when I found out my mother had put in the deposit for Holy Trinity Catholic School of Excellence.” She says softly.

Wait.

“This morning?” I turn to her, suddenly feeling awful that I just trauma dumped on her in an attempt to manipulate her into fighting against a choice that wasn’t hers to make in the first place.

“I know, right? She told me over breakfast that witch!” Laine pulls her head off my shoulder to look at me.

Holy shit. This changes everything, and immediately I realize that instead of grieving the friendship as a whole, I should be grieving the loss of time we’ll have together.

“We’ll still be friends, Laine. We’ll talk every day and hang out as much as we can.” I reassure her, even though I’m just as scaredfor us as she is.

“Pinky promise?” She extends her freezing purple pinky out to me, and I wrap mine around it, smiling harder than I should be right now, given the circumstances.

Laine and I became such close friends in such a short amount of time, it felt unbreakable before. But now that this wrench has gotten thrown at us, our friendship feels so fragile. Like one day of not talking could lead to the rest of our days not talking. The few days we spent apart after the cabin felt like an eternity in hell; I can’t imagine an actual eternity.

“I started tracing my project on canvas,” Laine says softly, looking at me for my reaction.

“That’s amazing!” I smile gently at her, reaching out my arm and brushing my fingers through her hair. My stomach settles, finally feeling comfortable with her again, the way that had become so familiar in the past few months with her.

“I couldn't finish it, though. I got to the hips and just couldn’t get the curve right.” She looks down at the ground, picking up more wood chips and fiddling with them in her hands.

“Oh.”

I'm not sure what the correct things to say to a struggling artist are, so I just continue playing with her hair as I watch her face fall, waiting for the spark to reignite in her eyes as she talks more about the thing she loves most.

“I couldn't do it because the only hips I memorized the dip of were yours.” My heart skips a beat, taking in her words as an arrow shot straight to the chest. “And I didn't want to draw you because I thought I messed up with you. I thought I scared you away.”

“You could never scare me away, Laine.”

The comfortable silence returns, and now her eyes are piercing mine back, her hazel swirls pulling me in and locking me into a trance-like state. The air feels warm now in her emotionalembrace, and she's making me feel like everything is going to be okay again.

“You know, I think you're my best friend.” She breaks the silence, keeping eye contact.

I take her hand and give it a gentle squeeze, my face feeling warmer by the minute. I know I don't need to say it back for her to know.

I know she can feel it through my touch.

We spend the rest of the evening sitting in front of the swings, discussing her thoughts on my favorite Disney movies, her and Thom’s shared ancestors, and planning winter activities to do together before school starts again. After tonight, I’m confident that her switching schools won’t distance us. Our bond is far too strong to be broken by proximity.

******

On the short walk home from the playground, my mind replays everything Laine told me and everything I felt at the moment. About how I was her muse, and about how she considers me her best friend. About how I crumbled and told her everything that happened with my dad out of pure fear of losing her. About what that meant for me and my feelings about her. About how I told her things I'd never told anybody else, just to stay in her presence a little longer.

My thoughts are interrupted as my eyes cut to the local late-night ice cream parlor a block or two away from my house. Thom is behind the counter, smiling as he hands a little boy a small chocolate cone drowned in sprinkles. He catches my eye from inside the shop and grins widely, gesturing toward the tubs of ice cream in front of him. Despite his reputation at school, he seemsto be important to Laine, which makes him important to me, so I go in.