Oldest, shortest, longest lashes

I grew up in the last generation where people memorized their friends' telephone number and birthday. Teresa's was 503-761-9548. Birthday, May 31st.

We traded lunch items the first day of first grade and got caught by Ms. Diaz. I was furious. Teresa wanted to trade an entire bag of cheetohs for my jumbo fruit roll-up. When I say bag, I mean, a gallon sack overflowing with processed, crunchy corn. Teresa just smiled sweetly at Ms. Diaz as I watched sullenly and tried not to yell.

Her dad had an asian girlfriend of unknown nationality that could win any game at Chuck E Cheese which came in handy at Teresa's 7th birthday party. We were rolling in tickets and candy and we laughed all afternoon.

At the end of the year, she said, "See you next year."

I didn't see her for five years.

By the time sixth grade rolled around I hadn't heard anything from her. Then one day in the fall, she just walked into the classroom like she'd really been back to the future and expected everything to be the same. She was still tiny. I'd had a wild growth spurt and was creeping up on 5'4 but she barely clocked 5 feet. Teresa was a perfect miniature human being and I had missed her.

"Where did you GO?!" I asked at lunch time.

"My dad was running from the IRS and moved us to the midwest."

"Where is he now?"

She blinked her eyelashes like ostrich feathers.

"I don't really care. Want to read this amazing new book series I just started?"

"Sure. But who are you living with?"

We were 12, almost 13 and I wanted to offer my trundle bed for her use.

"My mom and her husband. And our Akitas, Shiro and Neera."

We'd hang out at her place with the gigantic dogs that were double her weight. I started my period there as we sat on her roof one afternoon listening to the traffic on I-205. Teresa offered me some chocolate and I ate it silently, trying to conjure up a way to keep us girls forever.

I found out from my mother that her step-father had been molesting her for several years. Teresa never mentioned it.