The aroma of fresh wood and new paint drifted into my nose, and I paused in the doorway of the house, slowly breathing in the smell of my new home. The silence was overwhelming. The sounds of cars honking, children laughing, and adults yelling were gone, replaced by the quiet noises of the country. Wind rustling gently through the branches and birds chirping melodious harmonies in the maple trees were all I heard, foreign compared with the sounds of the city.

“Kira,” my mom whispered behind me, carrying a heavy cardboard box, “why don’t you go outside? The forest is beautiful, and you can explore it to your heart’s content.”

She beamed at me a little too brightly, obviously trying to make me smile in return, but I only nodded back, my face blank. This was all her fault. Without saying another word, I turned, slipped around her, shouldering her slightly, and headed outside. I never looked back.

Closing the garden gate behind me, I gazed at the tall, ancient trees that towered at the fringes of the yard, casting pools of shadow onto the lush, green grass. Although I had been bursting with excitement to see the forest ever since we bought this house, now that I was here, I decided it was nothing compared with what I had lost. I would trade it all ­­ the forest, our house, my new school ­­ in a heartbeat just to go back home, to see my friends again.

As I thought of my friends, my grey eyes blurred with tears and I stumbled on a tree root as I trudged through the deep, leafy forest undergrowth. Out of all the things I had left behind, they were what I missed the most. Smiling sadly, I thought of the last day I had seen them.

It had been sunset, and the sky was alight with colors, blending together to create a collage of red, yellow, and orange. Huddled together, we sat on a park bench with our feet dangling in the pond, watching as swans glided gracefully across the glassy surface of the water. We had said all there was to say, and now we sat in silence, unwilling to face the moment when we would have say the word I had been dreading ever since I had discovered I was moving: “goodbye.” Beside me, Luke, one of my closest friends, reached into his black leather jacket and rummaged in one of its pockets. Carefully, he drew out a photo album made of waxed, navy blue leather and covered in silver stars. On the cover was a picture of all us with our arms around each other, laughing. I was exactly in the center, surrounded by my friends on either side.

“We made it together,” Luke said, his voice cracking slightly and his usually cheerful brown eyes strangely moist. “It’s filled with all the pictures we could find of our friend group. So you’ll remember us when you’re gone.”

More than two thousand miles away, I smiled sadly at this memory. Although it had only happened a few weeks previously, that moment by the pond seemed years ago, as unreal as a dream.

Lost in thought, I barely heard the faint tinkling of running water. Suddenly, the densely packed trees thinned out and the thick foliage dispersed, leaving behind bare, muddy ground. Before me, a brook gurgled, filled with crystal clear water and lined with shiny, rainbow pebbles. Several boulders edged the stream. Although the surfaces of the obsidian black rocks were slippery, I managed to clamber to the top of nearest one and perch on the edge, my boots hovering just above the surface of the water.

Carefully, I reached into the pocket of my faded denim jacket and pulled out the photo album, my greatest treasure. With my long, black hair hanging down in my face, I opened it to a random page. Luke’s mischievous brown eyes stared out at me. His sandy hair was tousled carelessly, and wisps hung down in front of his face. Clothed in his usual black leather jacket, he stood in front of a ride in Great America, grinning. I was next to him, beaming just as brightly.

As I looked at the picture, my mind flashed back to that day. The two of us had raced around the amusement park, determined to try the most terrifying rides. As fellow daredevils, we had ridden all of them with no qualms, throwing our hands in the air and laughing. Finally, however, we came to the one ride I had always feared: the drop tower. When he saw the ride towering above us, Luke simply laughed and ran towards it, pulling me with him. Not wanting to back down, I waited in the seemingly endless line with him, staring with mounting terror as group after group of people were carried to the top of the tower and then dropped without warning. Slowly, we inched closer and closer to the ride. My senses screamed at me to bolt out of the line while I still could, but I just couldn’t bring myself to tell Luke. His caramel eyes shone eagerly, and he chattered about how excited he was. At last, he noticed my pale face and shaking hand and asked if I was alright. Reluctantly, I admitted my fears, but told him that I would ride the drop tower if he wanted me too. I would never let him down. In response, Luke gently grabbed my hand and led me out of the line, all the while apologizing and comforting me. That’s what I missed most about Luke, I realized. Although he was daring and mischievous, he could also be warmer and kinder than anyone else I knew.

My eyes swam with tears as I thought of him now, and the picture before me became a blur of watery color. I slammed the album shut. It was too painful to think about him and the other friends I had left behind.

Half blinded by my tears, I began to climb down the boulder again with the photo album in my hand. Halfway down, my feet slipped on the smooth surface of the rock, and I struggled to regain my footing. As my hands and legs scrabbled to find purchases, the leather photo album slipped out of my hands. It tumbled down the side of the rock as if in slow motion, landing in the stream with a splash.

With a cry, I jumped down the rest of the way and ran to the edge of the water, searching desperately for the album, but it was too late. The fast flowing water had swept it downstream, and it was lost in vicious tumble of frothing white rapids. The last thing I had left of my friends was gone.

Now, the tears I had been holding back really did fall, coursing down my cheeks and dripping down onto the forest floor. All the pent up anger and grief I felt burst like a dam and spilled out in a torrent of bitter tears. Why did we have to move? Every part of my life had been perfect: my friends, my house, my school. I had been forced to leave all of them behind, and losing the album was the final straw.

Unsteadily, I headed down the river. My vision obstructed by the tears streaming down from my eyes, I scanned the river bank. I just couldn’t bring myself to accept that the album was

really gone. However, as the sun set and colors danced across the sky like fire, I was forced to give in. I would never find it. The album was lost forever. Head down, I turned upstream, beginning the long walk back home.

“Hey!” someone called from behind.

I spun around, hastily wiping away my tears, and gasped as I saw a boy my age grinning back at me. I t’s Luke! I thought. However, I realized almost immediately that this boy couldn’t be Luke; they looked nothing alike. Along with ebony black hair styled in a perfect quiff, the boy had eyes the same color as a tropical ocean. Tall and athletic, he wore a blue and white letterman jacket. All in all, he was nothing like Luke.

Then I looked closer. Like Luke, his sea green eyes glinted mischievously and sparkled with humor. At a first glance, they looked like the eyes of the kind of students teachers brand “troublemakers.” However, when I looked closer, I noticed his eyes also had a warm, kind glow. Instinctively, I knew he was gentle and compassionate, the kind of person who would always be there to comfort his friends, just like Luke.

The boy reached into his jacket pocket. After rummaging around for a few seconds, he pulled out a blue photo album covered in stars. “I found this album a little ways downstream,” he said. “Is it yours?”

Too overjoyed to speak, I simply nodded and took the album from his hands. Due to the waxed leather and laminated pages, it was dry and intact. “Thanks,” I said, smiling for the first time since we had moved here. “My name’s Kira.”

“I’m Cody,” he said, his grin widening.
And at that moment, I knew I had found a friend.