I look glumly up at the large tan-and-gray school building I have been walking to for three years. For the past three weeks, I have walked alone. It feels like Reg has just been sick for a long time, and she'll come back Monday. It's Wednesday now, so I would still have two more long days to get through. 

I enter the building and trudge down the hall to my locker. Opening it, I shuffle through a pile of papers and folders that have fallen to the bottom and pull out what I will need. I used to be so organized, until about three weeks ago. I pick up a piece of photograph paper laying on top of the pile and flip it over. It's a picture of Reg and I at the seventh grade winter dance. We stand, back to back, our arms crossed over our chests, and a stern look on our faces that I remember being hard to keep solid. I smile at the memory. A hand rests gently on my shoulder.

"Hey, Ava, how are you doing?" It's Skye's voice. I drop the photo back into the indiscernible mass of clutter and turn to look at her. Her soft eyes gaze at me with concern.

"Fine," I reply with a weak smile. It's mostly the truth. I close the locker door and hurry off. 

First period, art, is unusually boring. I put the finishing touches on my acrylic painting of a mountain reflected in a lake. Others around me set out pictures of similar nature scenes and begin to work. 

"Class, this is a new student, Sierra Brooks! She just moved here from --where sweetie? --from Oregon! Welcome to art, Sierra," Mrs. Shandor announces with a large smile. What a coincidence. I smile at Sierra and say "hi" to be nice. She takes a seat near the front as Mrs. Shandor introduces her to some of the more outgoing students and gets her going on our current project. 

The rest of the class goes by without any pitfalls, along with the next few. I discover Sierra has joined my homeroom, and we have a small welcome party for her. Math so graciously gives me more homework. And guess who is in that class? Sierra. She's everywhere. How wonderful. Finally, I make it to lunch. I'm on my way to the cafeteria when someone taps my right shoulder. I look and see no one. I look to the left and see Jason. I give him my best glare.

"Hey, I liked the acrylic you finished in art today. Your water has some nice detail."

"Thanks," I reply. "Yours was good too. I like the texture of the grass."

Jason scrunches his nose. "Thanks. I dunno, it just looks like a bunch of lines to me."

"No, you have real talent! I bet you could-" A crash comes from the hot lunch line, so everybody turns to look for the source. Skye stands frozen in the doorway to the kitchen, mouth hanging open, her tray on the ground. A large white stain spreads across the front of her deep purple sweater and I can see her milk carton lying in a pool on the floor. She flushes pink, quickly picks up her lunch, dumps it in the trash, and runs, shaking, into the restroom.

Meanwhile, Jason stands stock still next to me.  When he still doesn't do anything, I gesture towards the door and say, "Go help her! She's your girlfriend!"

He snaps out of it, and replies, "Uh, yeah. What am I supposed to do though? I can't just run into the girls restroom!"

I shove him towards the restroom anyways. "Stand outside the door and call for her. Ask if she has a change of clothes in her locker. Just be there for her!" He gives me a worried look and jogs to the door. 

Left by myself, I search for a place to sit. Most seats are already taken. I spot Sierra, the new girl, sitting alone near the back. She sits hunched over, looking at her phone. I sigh. We have so many classes together, I might as well get to know her. I set my lunchbox down and take a seat across from her. 

"I know what this feels like," I say, trying to start a conversation. 

She jumps, and looks up at me. "What what feels like?"

"The... loneliness. My closest friend moved away a few weeks ago. Anyways, I'm Avalon Wood. My friends just call me Ava." I offer my hand. She shakes it.

"I'm Sierra Brooks, although I think you already know that. We have homeroom and math together, don't we?"

"Yup, and art," I add. "So you're from Oregon, right?"

"Yes, Ashland. It's got the famous Oregon Shakespeare Festival. I loved seeing the plays every year..." She gets a sad, wistful look that I recognize from my own life. Thinking of Regan often gives me that look.

I move the subject along. "Do you act, then? We've got a pretty good program here at Anderson. I do a lot of the plays."

Sierra immediately brightens up. "Really? I love acting! What shows have you done recently?"

We begin talking. We have a surprising amount in common. Both of our middle schools performed Charlotte's Web and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe as plays. We both love reading, although she has not read Harry Potter, and I tell her that she will have to start now if we are going to be friends. She does softball as well, and we agree to try out for the high school team together and joke about the scary seniors. 

And so our friendship begins. We talk in class, and study for tests after school. We stay in touch over the summer, hanging out at the pool, our houses, and around town. We even get our families to take a weekend camping trip together. High school begins, and we help each other get used to the ropes. I know nobody can replace the friendship I had with Regan, but Sierra helps fill the emptiness that Regan left behind. Everything is smooth sailing with Sierra. We get along great and she gets along with my other friends as well. I begin to think that we'll be friends long after we graduate high school. 

After all, what can go wrong?