I never had my heart broken before Bra Briefs stood in front of me, her big blue eyes searching frantically before finally settling on my face. Her freckle-spattered cheeks matched her eyes—red and puffy—and her thick, cerulean hair had a line running through it from when she tried to put it up with a tie when it was still wet. The funny girl who read books no one assigned her looked me in the eye and I stared blankly, confused by the tears. I didn't want her to cry.

"Pan," she rasped," I can't anymore."

I remember how confused I was, staring at a girl who stared at me as I remember all the times we stared together at the clouds or the night sky as we lay together on a fuzzy blue blanket I'd taken from my sister's room when she wasn't there. I didn't believe it, not at first. I thought it was something else, like maybe she couldn't take care of the puppy I'd gotten her or maybe she was dropping out high school or something else, anything but what happened.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my black eyes lost in her blue ones that didn't return the feeling of being lost. "I don't understand."

"You're not meant to," she mumbled and slowly unclasped the locket I gave her for our six-month anniversary. She stuck out her hand, locket clenched tightly in her fist. "Take it," she commanded, looking away. I didn't move. She sighed. "Go on, take it."

"No," I told her and she sighed and stepped towards me to force the locket into my palm. It slithered between my fingertips like a thin, venomous snake and retreated to the wet grass beneath my feet. She stepped back and the scent I'd grown to love went with her. "Bra, I don't get it. Please, we can talk this out. Is it something I did? Was it something I said? Please, just tell me, and I'll fix it and we can make this work."

All the begging in the world couldn't change it though and she shook her head, her eyes like cracking levees letting her tears escape. "I'm sorry, Pan. I just can't love you anymore."

I watched her walk away, flashlight in hand, her bright, blue hair floating away in the dark of the night, the flashlight swinging as if carried by a phantom of sorts. I watched the light bob—back and forth, back and forth—up the hill of my backyard along the narrow path that led between shrubs and the white fence that separated my house from my neighbor's before it finally disappeared, crossing the street where Bra's pale yellow house faced my own dingy white home.

Sooo, what do you think? Let me know