"Maybe...you two should break up," I whispered. I continued rubbing my hands back and forth over the pants legs of my torn jeans. This whole conversation made the tomboy in me nervous. I hated these kinds of mushy, heart-to-hearts. They’re so, you know, chick lit.

Lauren gulped and turned away from me. "Jesus, Sophie, you don't understand." Even for a girl who tended to exaggerate, her voice sounded especially melodramatic. I hated soap operas, too.

I braced myself for the worst possible backlash and said, "I know, Lauren, but---"

"He was my first. We made love."

Well, that was a surprise. A dandy factor I hadn’t considered. A dandy factor that complicated the situation even more. I sighed and gazed at the sky, hoping for a revelation from God. Hell, even Buddah. Maybe Kurt Cobaine, just anybody who knew what he was doing. 

The tree frogs were just starting to peep as if to shatter the silence crystallizing between Lauren and me. I sighed once more and began to pray, something I rarely did in those days. How do you tell your best friend to end a relationship without her kicking your ass with her bubblegum stilettos?

"You know that I love him," Lauren murmured, "You know how happy he makes me, how alive he makes me feel. You know that he's the best thing that's ever happened to me." She paused and then shot me hasty glance. Even the frogs, recognizing Lauren’s mistake, seemed to pause for a moment. "Besides you, of course." Of course. Ribbiting ensued. 

"But what about your goals? Your awesome dreams? Ever since you were thirteen, you’ve told me you wanted to be a journalist and now you're throwing away all of your aspirations just to be closer to Adam! You know not just anybody can become a friggin’ syndicated fashion columnist."

"What difference does it make that I'm not going to become a

journalist. You know I was never meant to be a writer, anyway. I'm not smart enough."

In stark contrast to my pot-smoking, grunge worshipping, slackering ways, Lauren was the most ambitious person I knew. Or at least that's how she was before she met Adam. She was one of those braniac overachievers who made everyone else in the Gifted and Talented program look like dizzy orangutans forever spinning in white rooms of nothingness. Seriously, nobody at our school could top this kid. Lauren had over a 4.0 GPA and scored wonderful internships (The Richmond Times-Dispatch, Media General). Every week, some new venue published her fashion stories. The girl was trilingual for goodness sake! I’m not talking Versace, Prada, Gucci, and Dolce & Gabbana, either. I mean French, Italian, and English (duh to the last one).

But then she met Adam. Oh, Adam, Adam, Adam! It’s like little red hearts sprung up in her eyes anytime anybody mentioned that guy’s name. Or the letter ‘A.’ Yeah, that probably would’ve been enough. I would’ve been fine with it except that this Adam dude was a total loser---and that’s coming from me. He rode around in this shitty motorcycle that he stole from one of the parking lots in his ghetto and wore the same two T-shirts over and over (I swear). The T-shirts were both sweat-stained and moth-eaten. They were the most pathetic T-shirts I ever saw and I’m not the fashionista here, Lauren is. He always smelled like cigarette smoke, which is a lot nastier than pot smoke if I do say so myself. He had the yellow teeth and nails of a chain smoker, too. Not only that, but Adam often came to school drunk and repeatedly got in trouble for starting fights at school. I really, really wish I were making this all up. I really, really wish I were drawing up some sick characterization of him but no, not at all. He was a bad boy, no buts about it.

I don't even remember how Adam and Lauren met. I really, really wish I had been there when it happened, though. Maybe I could’ve stopped it somehow. It was at a party, I believe---sometime last July while I was on a family vacation to Barcelona, a.k.a. buying Spanish reefer while my parents lounged in front of this ultra-blue pool and drank sangrías all day. The details of their first encounter were always vague, but I was certain of one thing: Adam and Lauren were the most love-struck 17-year olds I knew. It was disgusting how Adam made Lauren lose sight of herself but I guess it was cute that they were so attached. I just wish Lauren were that into a guy who was good for her. 

After Lauren began dating Adam, she spent increasingly less time on her studies, which I didn't particularly mind because her grades were still top-notch (I mean, I think her GPA might’ve dropped to a 3.89 but that was still a hell of a lot higher than mine), but I resented that we hardly ever saw each other alone anymore. I mean, we used to do everything together, like throw this stupid fashion shows in her room, pore over Nylon and Urban Outfitters catalogs for hours, and go to drag shows to check out the wild costumes. Yeah, sayonara to all that. We didn’t even eat lunch together anymore, unless dumb ass Adam tagged along. (How fitting that the idiot eats a baloney sandwich everyday; he’s full of it himself. Okay, that was lame, but still. Ugh.)

Outside of the whole “Lauren’s dating a loser” thing, I also resented that right as the horror of college admissions was upon us, Lauren expected me to help her decide about this guy who stole---yeah, stole---her virginity. The question was whether to attend the same school as Adam so they could stay together or to go to the college she and her parents liked best.

And after that tangent, back to the conversation she and I had:

"Of course you’re smart,” I said after Lauren claimed she didn’t have the brains to be a writer, “At least booksmart---but not very practical. I mean, have you listened to yourself lately? You have a dream and you've always had that dream. In ten years, I want to see your fashion column in every fucking magazine and newspaper in America, okay? Don’t tell me you’re going to sacrifice your dream, after how hard you’ve worked, for a guy now. Adam and you can always catch up in a couple of years."

"No, Sophie. You really just don't understand. You've never had a

serious boyfriend." I could tell she was getting all emotional now because her eyes were gleaming in that “I’m about to cry” way.

"Hey, you asked me for my opinion. I'm just telling you what I think is best. If you don’t care about what I actually think, girly, then please excuse me. I have a bowl I wanna---"

"Sophie, of course I care what you think!” she interjected. “You’re my Sophie! That’s why I’m asking you and not anybody else. Listen, what if Adam finds a new girlfriend at college? What if he forgets about me? I gave him everything! I..." She bent down to pick up a small tree branch and started plucking leaves off of it. I was the more fidgety of the two of us but she sometimes acquired my ticks when she was scared. "I really do love him...and he loves me."

My patience was waning and I really wanted to smoke. I gave her my answer, what more could she want? "Well, what does your mom say?"

"She...well, you know, she...it's not important what she thinks. College is about the next four years of my life, not hers."

"She agreed with me, didn't she?"

Lauren didn't answer, but she didn't have to; her mother's a very

pragmatic woman. She never even approved of Adam in the first place and was desperate to separate the two lovebirds as soon as possible. Lauren's mother probably wanted Lauren to become a journalist more badly than Lauren herself did. Not the same kind of journalist---her mother was crossing her fingers that Lauren would turn to “hard news” instead of all that frilly, frou-frou fashion stuff---but she was still supportive of her daughter’s career choice. She was all “Yeah, definitely go for that magazine internship” and shit.

"If you two are truly in love, you two will make it together in the future," I said, hoping the cornball argument would appeal to my friend. "I mean, this is even coming from me, the screwball, honey: you should use this time to earn your degree and start working at a professional newspaper."

"I already work for a newspaper," Lauren snapped.

"Yeah, for our school. I said a PROFESSIONAL paper."

"Whatever. I can always write again later in life."

"But you're at your creative prime right now!"

"It's a myth that you're most creative during your youth, you know.

There are plenty of older magazine writers and novelists. In fact, most writers and journalists are old, over thirty at least."

"But the sooner you go to college, the sooner you can get hired by a

REAL publication or publishing house! Look, I’m not high right now. I’m talking with a totally sober and clear mind. I’m clean, I’m---"

"Look, Sophie," Lauren said, "the issue isn't going to college versus not. I AM going to college---just probably a different one than what I had originally intended."

"Community college is not for you. You deserve better. You deserve to go to a school with one of the best journalism programs in the country."

"There's nothing wrong with community college! I’ll save a lot of money, too. I can move to New York sooner that way."

"Tsk, girly, you can do waaay better. I mean, you got those society-thingy scholarships to cover your room and board for two years, anyway. And you’re parents are paying tuition, duh. You’re, like, one of the only kids in America who doesn’t have to worry about having enough money for college. You’re not in the same tiny boat I’m in, where I can only look at a tiny group of schools because I can’t afford out of state. If you go to community college, you’re just insulting yourself."

It was another silent moment where neither one of us said anything to the other. I scooped up a bunch of pebbles and threw them into the pond before us. Lauren and I watched them fall into the water and splash. We waited for their ripples to disappear before anyone spoke again. That peaceful interruption made the end of our conversation easier.

Lauren shifted uncomfortably on the splintery bench where we sat and muttered, "Yeah, the library at Pierce is kind of small, isn't it?" 

"Ha, reeeally small, Lauren. And they don't even have a book club

there. If you don’t believe me, check their website. I did already, for your own good. No student newspaper, either. Sad, huh?"

"Hmm...yeah, but not as sad as being away from Adam for four years."

"You two can still see each other. It is possible, you know."

"But Chicago is hours away from here!" she shouted. The pond frogs stopped peeping, maybe out of fright, maybe out of surprise. Lauren blushed. I smiled at her blushing and we both smiled because nature was listening to us. 

Then I chuckled and said, "Airplanes were invented over a hundred years ago, honey."

Lauren grinned. "You don't have to tell me that. I actually LIKE history class, remember?"

"Yeah, unfortunately that's pretty much the only thing I remember from Mr. Briscoe's class. I just remember ‘cause that was the day William Hollins, from third period Algebra, was selling dimes for the price of nickels."

"Oh, be quiet,” she whispered, “I can’t believe that you’re lecturing me.” The frogs’ started up their croaking again and other creatures---creatures I didn’t recognize---joined them. “Briscoe is such an amazing teacher, isn't he?"

"Yeah---but you probably won't find any professors like him at Pierce. Only 20% of the faculty there has a P.h.D."

"For once, you’ve done your research."

"And so did you. Go to Northwestern---that's where you belong."

"Will I still belong to Adam's heart, if I do?"

"Of course you will. He loves you, doesn't he?" I was confident he did, even if he was a bigger loser than I was. I mean, losers fall in love, too. I had fallen in love with Lauren.

“Yeah, yeah he does.”

“Then let this be a test, girly.”

I’m not sure what amount of time passed between us then but it seemed lengthy. Of course sometimes a moment seems longer than it actually is.

“A test,” Lauren repeated, seconds or minutes later.

“Yes, a test.”

“A trial?”

“If you will.”

“A test, a trial.”

“In the name of love.”

I wrapped my arms around Lauren and drew her into my chest. She rested her chin on my shoulder and whispered, “I love you, Sophie.”

“I love you, too, Lauren. I love you, too.”