"Cav-al-cade. That's pretty."

You were five years old, reading a dictionary. Kindergarten was boring. Who wanted to play dolls when you could squash ants?

There was one boy who didn't seem interested in playing either. He sat in a corner, overalls rumpled, pudgy fingers fisted. His fuzz of blond hair stuck straight up.

"Hey." He looked up to find you above him. "Why don't you play with anyone?"

"I hate them."

"Me too. Wanna hate them together?"

"Okay. My name's Cloud." He offered a hand like your daddy did.

"I'm ____. Wanna be my best friend?"

"Yeah."

So it began.