He spun back around, once again took his place beside me, and we continued down my street.

So many new thoughts and dreams were rippling inside of me.

“Harp,” Cal said. “I have another serious question.”

I tried to curtail my smile because it didn’t seem cool to smile as much as I could feel myself smiling, but no one had ever given me a nickname, at least not a nickname that wasn’t an insult, and I felt as if Cal had just uncovered the real me. I stopped walking and tried to look serious, even though I suspected I was still smiling like a cartoon character.

“Do you want to be in my band?” Cal said.

It was as if all the stuff inside of me was about to gush out.

“I mean it’s just me right now, but I need a guitar player, and not only are you the best guitar player I’ve ever met, but you’re pretty decent looking too—girls like cute guitarists—and we’re going to be in the same class, and that means we can practice all the time and grow up to be the Campbell and Petty of our generation. What do you say?”

I whipped out my notebook and was about to write YES! as big as I could fit it on the page, but that didn’t seem emphatic enough. I wanted Cal to know I was more serious about this than I’d ever been about anything.

Cal was waiting for my answer. And I don’t think he ever truly understood the significance of what happened next.

I looked him in the eye, took a deep breath, and said, “I definitely want to be in your band.”

It was the first time I’d spoken in over two years.

“Cool,” Cal said with a casual shrug.

He took my notebook from me and wrote up a contract stating that he and I were now best friends and bandmates for life. We both signed it, and then Cal folded up the paper, put it in his pocket, and followed me up my driveway.

SEVEN.

Cal and I were inseparable all through high school. His mom, Terry, used to call us the Reese’s Twins on account of an old commercial for Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups that went two great tastes that taste great together or some such thing. She said that, much like chocolate and peanut butter, we were pretty awesome on our own, but that as a duo we were unstoppable. She actually used that word: “unstoppable.” I’m sure she only said it because she was trying to be nice, because nothing about my personality screamed unstoppable, but she and Cal were both good at making me feel like I was worth something, and that meant a lot.

Every day after school, Cal and I would go back to my house and do our homework. Despite our obsession with music, we were both excellent students. I worked hard because Bob threatened to take away my guitar if I didn’t maintain my GPA. Cal worked hard because he said slacker musicians were a cliché, and he refused to be a cliché. “Except with girls,” he clarified. “One of the reasons I’m doing this is for the girls.”