Amy and I became best-best friends in sixth grade, when the stars aligned and all the following things happened:
- We had the exact same schedule.
- We were taking science from an ancient-looking man who had been my mother's science teacher. He required us to do group presentations on one of the body's main systems. Unluckily, we drew systems like reproductive and excretory, which meant we had to say words like testicle and rectum in front of the whole class. Without giggling.
- During a game of Mum Ball, Ryan McLean threw the ball to me, and Amy and I were able to analyze that (and his love for me, as clearly indicated by said throw) for the next six months until he threw the ball to Amy and the cycle repeated itself.
- We were taking social studies from grumbly Miss Poweski, who was always threatening to beat the class with wet noodles.
- We shared the same arch enemies.
- We spent countless study hall hours creating a set of code we could use in our notes to each other. We gave everyone nicknames. We gave ourselves nicknames, too. Amy was Sparkle and I was Miss Basketball. Our notes looked like this: Sparkle loves Baby Got Back! Sparkle HATES SALAD! Miss Kitty is on the prowl.
- We couldn't go two minutes without talking to each other.
Not much has changed since then, and that's probably one of the best things about my life, one of my most prized accomplishments. I don't ever want to live in a world where I can't call this girl at 4 AM in the morning to tell her about the eighty-five small dramas that happened to me since I saw her last.
And so, in honor of Amy's twenty-sixth birthday, here is a collage of photos from her birthday celebration last night--a celebration that ended with us cutting thick wedges of chocolate Oreo cake and stuffing our faces with it in the wee hours of the morning:
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