No. No, I’m not doing this. I’m not being all “lost my old best friend but made a new one on my way out of our friendship.” No way

Oh, I’d been warned. Everyone said, “Don’t go to high school with your elementary school friends, it just complicates matters.” I heard all about high school politics and about outgrowing old friendships, and the rite of passage of feeling like you have no friends in the entire world.

I just never, in one million years, thought any of it would apply to me.

Atara has been my best friend since I was a little girl. She was the Mike to my Ike, the Simmy to my Mimmy.

And now she’s not.

I walk faster, a light summer shower begins. It suits my mood perfectly.

I’m sad. Really, genuinely sad. And the weirdest part is that it’s not even Atara that I miss so much. It’s just the Bella Rena who was her friend…. That girl I miss. The Bella Rena who dances, who jetés and pirouettes, the Bella who drinks caramel milkshakes at Dolce, the Bella Rena who hasn’t had to make a new friend in nine years, who had a built-in book report and science experiment partner.

That Bella’s gone. And she was kind of awesome, in her simple, obnoxious, self-centered way.

She’s been replaced by a sewing, solo, introspective teenager. And I’m not sure I was ready to say goodbye to her yet.

*****

It’s a sweatshirt-and-Uggs kind of evening, even though it’s in the 80s outside. I blast the AC in my room and snuggle deep into my hole of despair.

My phone lies silently on the desk. I should text Pori or Mali, start putting out feelers for a new best friend.

I glance at the clock. Seven thirty. They’re both at ballet class. With Atara.

Throwing myself back on the pillows, I close my eyes and let the tears spill out. I know it’s okay to cry, but right now, I’m not even sure what I’m crying about.