Later, Noah found me alone.
“Chrissy… would you love me?”
At six, I had no idea what kind of question that really was.
“Maybe.”
His face brightened.
Then I remembered hearing my older cousin talk about prom.
“But first we have to go to prom.”
“What’s prom?”
“A dance you go to when you’re almost grown up.”
Noah held out his pinkie.
“Promise?”
I hooked mine around his.
“Promise.”
I forgot about it almost immediately.
Noah didn’t.
Over the next twelve years, our friendship survived different classes, changing interests, awkward teenage years, and everything else growing up threw at us.
Noah loved baseball statistics.
I loved art.
