Jackie emboldened me. She became my best friend as a kid—probably the best friend I ever had on Earth. We started spending every day at school together. Walking to class side-by-side. Eating our wheat bread and ham sandwiches at lunch. Playing faded board games with missing pieces during after-school care.

  Eventually we got together on weekends too. I found her home phone number in the school directory my parents buried under old copies of Popular Science in the piano bench in our living room. I wrote it down, then I asked my mom if I could use the home phone with as much politeness as a second grader could muster.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Okay, who are you calling?” she asked.

  “My friend Jackie.” I said. “I want to go to her house to play.”

  “Oh isn’t that lovely! Go right ahead. Hand the phone to me if her parents ask.”

  I called. Jackie answered the phone.

  “Ha’u, Pahona residence, Jackie speaking.”

  She sounded so professional. If I hadn’t known her, I would’ve thought the voice on the other end was at least a teenager.

  “Hey Jackie! It’s Andrew. Do you want to play this weekend?”

  “Yeah! Let me ask mommy.”

  I heard little footsteps as she ran across a carpeted floor. Then there was a muffled conversation.

  “Alright, she says you can come over Sunday aaaat…” She must’ve looked off at her mom for confirmation. “At two!”

  “Okay! See you!”