You know that girl in school who you just cannot stand? Come on ladies, you all have one -or maybe five. Well I sure did. All of fifth grade year I listened to Michelle talk about Michelle, my friends talk about Michelle. Even my teacher mentioned her name a couple of times! I was sick of hearing about Michelle.

At an after school event, my mom saw this girl that looked girly, fun, talkative, and friendly. She made the suggestion, “She seems nice.” I was quick to reply that there was no way I would be friends with that girl. She didn't like me; I didn't like her, and I wished my friends would have stopped suggesting we become friends. “You are so much a like. You would be great friends.” Our friends told us both this, and every time they did, we both replied the same way. “No we aren't.”

It got worse.

Michelle was put in the same sixth grade class as me! Was I cursed? I sure seemed to believe so. How could I go a whole year in the same class with that girl that everyone said was so much like me? I met Ashley that same year and we were fast friends from the time we were partnered together on our first sixth grade partner activity. But with Ashley came Michelle. At recess all three of us would walk laps around the side walk in front of our school and talk about every subject from here to the moon and back. Sometimes our shoes stayed on, but most of the time they dangled from our fingers as our bare feet kissed the smooth pavement.

Then there was the day Ashley wasn't in school. And after a month of the same recess pattern, neither of us were about to stop. So Michelle and I walked. -and swung our flip flops. The first detail I noticed, I will never forget, we both were wearing the same pink nail polish on our toenails. We talked about Mrs. Steidenger, our recess teacher, because she was really the only thing to talk about. Then I brought up the toe polish. Then that led to clothes, hair, homework, parents, and other stuff all friends discuss. Man did we have lots in common! It wasn't long before we were laughing and sitting by each other in class. By the middle of the school year we were willingly working together on projects, disrupting the class by whispering in the back, and chasing after boys. I would call us best friends.

Now I would just like to add that we owe part of our success as friends to our recess teacher. Mrs. Steidenger loved me. She commented on my pink nail polish and my new head band. She acknowledged my grades and let me go in early for lunch to go help in the cafeteria. But she was not so fond of Michelle. She kept her eyes on Michelle just waiting to catch her doing something wrong; she called on Michelle last when she helped out in the classroom, and she rarely noticed Michelle's new jewelry. This difference kept us going. Often it caused some jealousy, but it was laughed off and she would rant and I would laugh at her misfortune. This proved we were BFF's. Only best friends can laugh at the other in times of unfairness. We still talk about that teacher to this day.

Seventh and eighth grade were spent seeing each other between classes, talking during lunch, and endlessly passing notes during Choir. In homeroom she helped me with science; I helped her with math. Summers included pool days, tan lines, more pink nail polish, and parties filled with slip n' slides and hose fights. We knew the best malls, the latest fashions, and both ordered the same magazines.

Michelle became sick. Not with the flu or a cold. I had known for a little while but I didn't want to bring it up. But finally I asked her what it meant to be sick. And in the middle of her street in front of her house, we cried together. Being I had no idea what Lupus was, I asked her to please give me a general idea of what it was. “Being sick” meant her kidneys were not working properly. I asked if she was scared and she looked in me in the eyes and said, “No.” I looked down at my pink nail polish and we cried a bit more. As if on cue, the tears stopped, we fixed our make-up and straightened our shirts. She acted confident that everything would be okay, and I kept wishing I had as much confidence as her. So swinging our glittery change purses the way we had swung our flip-flops only two years back, we walked down the street to begin our search for garage sales.

Though it never came up again, I also never let it slip my mind. On twin day at our school we wore the same light-blue jeans, dark blue t-shirt, hair in ponies, and pink flats with a little bow. She doesn't know it, but that day at lunch when I excused myself to the bathroom, it was not to fix my hair in the mirror; I allowed myself a mini-breakdown. Only a few tears were shed, but lots of thoughts raced through my head: questions that had no answers, thoughts that couldn't be explained, emotions that I had been trying not to feel. The thought of loosing my best friend scared the crap out of me. I couldn't believe all the time I had wasted before becoming friends.

I followed her mom's posts on Facebook closely, as did my mom. Slowly her posts became more and more positive. Her numbers were improving. My worries were fading. Now, I rarely even think about it. It is weird how something that never left your mind for so long can slowly never cross it.
I spent months thanking God each night. Sometimes I still do. He saved my best friend.

A memory I will never forget was our first day of high school. The school was so big and us freshman seemed so small as we weaved in and out of the big kids. As I wiggled my way through the crowd to find the line for class schedules, I saw the first familiar face I had seen yet that morning. I was so relieved to see Michelle! We ran to each other and gave a big hug. neither of us wanted to loose sight of the other again. “That guy has a beard!” a gasped, and she pointed out two more boys I thought looked old enough to be a teacher. I looked at her again and the same nervousness were in here eyes that I knew were in my own. I knew where her locker was; she knew where mine was. We weaved through the hoard of adult looking students together, touring the halls that would be our prison for the next four years. We survived the first year of high school together, and that is how we plan to survive the next three. And even the next ten years as we both go on to be interior designers. That's right; we even want to be in the same profession which is a total coincidence! Just another thing we have in common.

Some people go their whole life without finding a best friend. I found mine in sixth grade. As I write this, I think back to that day I found out Michelle was in my class. Was I cursed? Now I understand that I am not cursed; I'm blessed. <3