I was the oldest in my little family. There was my mom, my sister, and me, Schuyler. My dad left my mom and I when I was ten and when my sister was four, but that was the past. Today was Saturday. Finally it was the weekend. I pulled my silk curtains aside and let the sun, shine in, blinding me. I thrust open the window, to be greeted by the sweet sound of birds chirping. I yawned and stretched my arms. I moved my legs so they were hanging out on the side of my bed. I got up and tripped over a soccer ball. My head was still up in the clouds so I could hardly feel pain.

Vmmm…

Vmmm…

My cell was vibrating and I went to snag it off my dresser to answer. "Hello?" I answered groggily.

"Hey Schuyler! You comin' to the game?" Oh great, it was Oliver. I didn't want to go to the game. I was too tired, not to mention my plans of going on a bike ride would be interrupted if I went.

"Sorry Olli, but I was going to do some stuff…maybe some other time."

"Oh ok! I'll see you after the game!" he replied.

"Bye. Good Luck!"

"Ok thanks. Bye!

I grabbed some shorts and a tank top and put them on. I went to brush my teeth and pulled my hair into a ponytail. I put my cell phone in my back pocket and went out the bedroom door and into the kitchen. I saw my eight-year-old sister eating a pop tart with some milk.

"Where you going?" Veronica asked

"On a bike ride," I replied

"Oh," She looked down at her pop tart, with a frown on her face. I decided to ignore her.

I grabbed a silver package out of the pop tart box and put it in the oven.

When it was ready I took it out of the oven and wolfed it down. I then walked out the door and went to find my bike right next to the freshly painted mailbox. I grabbed the bike, spun it around, and the next thing I knew I was feeling the warm breeze against my face. My long, layered, blonde hair blew madly in the wind. The sun blinded my green eyes, and I reached to grab my aviators from Marc Jacobs and put them on. I rode around on my blue beach cruiser, passing by people smiling, laughing. After many hours, I decided to go home. I went across an alley, through the park, and cut through the private beach. When I finally arrived at home, I brushed back my hair, and then parked my bike against my white mailbox. I walked to my room past my sisters and my mother's master bedroom. I wondered how Ollie did in his game. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell but then it vibrated against my palm. I looked at the polka dotted cover and read Unknown...

I answered it but regretted it...

"Hello?" I said cautiously into the phone.

"Hi, is this Schuyler?" said a deep male's voice.

"Yeah, Who's this?" I asked. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, unreasonably.

"I'm Dr. Smith from the Intensive Care Unit at St. Helen's Hospital." They paused.

"And?" I pressed urgently.

"Honey, I'm sorry, your friend Oliver…" He trailed off.

"Tell me!" I shouted into the phone, beyond agitated at this point. There was definitely something pointier than butterflies beating against the walls of my stomach.

"Oliver had some complications with a serious heart condition during his soccer match. He was brought in to the ICU and we did all we could for him, but- well, he passed on about an hour ago. I'm sorry for your loss. Good-bye." The line went dead.

My heart was slowing down but I could feel it beat faster. My hands trembled as I let the phone fall carelessly on my unmade bed. No, oh no. Please God, no! At that moment everything that surrounded me was hazy and unclear. How could this happen? My best friend someone I loved, known, and trusted ever since I could remember, die? I looked down at the soccer ball I tripped over and remembered Ollie, my best friend.

I didn't cry, but my mind felt numb. My sister crawled into my bed wrapped her arms around me and whispered, "I'm right here…I'm sorry," she continued, "I could be your best friend." I smiled and closed my eyes. The next thing I knew I was asleep.

-Two Months Later-

I walked to the kitchen, to get breakfast and saw my mom standing right in front of me. I looked around everything was in boxes labeled 'kitchenware', or 'food', 'Schuyler's clothes', et cetera. I looked up and she said, "We're moving," I nodded once and she put her finger up I knew she had more to say, "You have to go to school grab your things and say your goodbyes." I walked out the door with my channel ballet flats.

When I walked down the hallways with a confident smile pretending to be okay. My friends walked up saying things all at the same time.

"God, I'll miss you!"

"What will we do for fun with out you?"

"Who will help us win in soccer? We're going to be crushed!"

"Promise to call!"

After that long and melancholy day, I saw my mom pull up. We drove off to Seattle, Washington to run away from our problems and begin a new life, away from California.