We had been best friends ever since second grade. If we wanted to see each other allwe had to do was walk down the hall, and give our special knock. Mine was threeknocks and a whistle, Sylvee's was a swift kick to the foot of the door followedby "Claud, open up!" We went to the same school, shared the sameimaginary friend, and swore on Barbies that we would always be bestfriends.

Years passed and our conversations graduated from stuffed animalsto boys. Our circle of friends also changed. Sylvee started hanging out withpreps and I with jocks.

Most weekends Sylvee would invite her friends fora sleepover and only if I showed up to ask her to go to the park did I find out Ihadn't even been invited. I resented her new friends. I had kept my oath that Iwould not find a better friend, but apparently she hadn't.

Eventually westopped speaking. I really missed her. I missed our late-night talks abouteverything from clothes to books. She was the wild one who was always ready toget her hand into things, and I was more laid-back and often talked some senseinto her. We made the perfect pair.

By our eighth-grade graduation we wereacting like strangers. I knew from my mom that she would be going to a differenthigh school and was moving to the edge of the city, far from me. After graduationI was alone and started thinking about why our relationship went wrong. We hadbeen inseparable. I needed answers, and Sylvee was the only one who could givethem to me.

As I crossed the hall, childhood memories flashing with everystep, and knocked three times followed by my whistle. The door opened and we juststared at each other. I finally broke the ice and said quietly, "Whathappened?"

Then we both burst into tears and hugged each other. Wewent to my place and made a bowl of popcorn that got salted with our tears. Thestory unfolded. Her group of friends had pressured her not to be my friendbecause they didn't like us being so close. They also told Sylvee that they woulddrop her if she didn't, and she wouldn't have any friends, including me. Shebelieved them, but now felt like a fool. She asked if we could keep in touch andmaybe pick up where we'd left off.

I told her that would be impossiblebecause I was so angry we had lost years of friendship over something so trivial.But I realized it wasn't her fault, or mine, and I finally forgave the girlswho'd broken us apart. If one of us had just spoken up sooner, we could have keptour friendship. That taught me to speak up when I know there's a problem, ratherthan avoid it as I did for a number of years.

Today Sylvee and I stillchat once a month, although sometimes our conversations are a little strainedbecause we don't want to reveal our problems as freely as we once did. When wevisit each another, we pause like we did when I knocked on her door aftergraduation, and stare into each others' eyes silently asking, What happened?