Nothing could have prepared me for what happened on that dark October night. Two years ago, Ruby was my best friend. We were like sisters, and I thought I couldn’t live without her.

Today, I’m cleaning out my closet, preparing to finally move out of my parents’ house, when a big book comes tumbling down. Naturally, I pick up the book to examine it further. I find that it’s a yearbook from one of my earlier years of high school. I notice a bookmark sticking suspiciously out of the top of the book. Opening the book to the marked page,* I find a very large picture of Ruby and I. We were laughing; and each one of us had an enormous grin to show for it. At the top of the page in large golden letters it says “Dedicated to Ruby Wilson.” She would have been honored. I flip through the pages only to find more pictures of Ruby, and at the time, I felt as though nothing could go wrong.

Halloween was our favorite holiday. Even at the age of fifteen, every year we looked forward to running around town in costumes like four-year-olds on their first time trick-or-treating.**

It was past midnight, so Ruby and I started walking home. We were walking down the dark street when we saw something thrashing around in a nearby bush. Curious, we went to investigate. To Ruby’s and my horror, we found a puppy, abandoned, tangled in its leash, and stuck in a bush. After what seemed like hours, we finally got the pup untangled. Satisfied, Ruby sat up to pet it. The frightened puppy suddenly dashed out into the nearby street. Being the animal lover she was, Ruby ran after it. She grabbed the dog by the leash and stood to come back. Tripping on the its leash, she fell to the ground with a thud. She struggled to hold on to the terrified pup. “Ruby, hurry!” I warned. Ruby was a bit hurt from her fall, but she still managed to keep a tight grip on the poor, abandoned dog. That was until we all looked up and saw the speeding headlights inches away from them.

I shut the yearbook forcefully as tears come flooding into my eyes like a river you wish would stop flowing.** After that accident, I was forced to take part in countless interviews and news stories. What girl wants to re-live the death of her best friend over and over, for millions of people?***

I tried to get rid of everything I had that reminded me of her. But one day I realized something. I decided that instead of mourning the loss, I should be remembering all the fantastic memories I was lucky enough to share with her.

“So that’s why I kept this old yearbook.” I say to myself quietly. Then, with a teary smile, I pack the book in a nearby box, so I can remember our memories and the lessons she taught me another day.