Sophia Cunningham. That was the name of my best friend. She had short brown hair that bounced up and down when she ran and a love for adventure that could not be matched by any other kid in Mrs. Parson’s fourth-grade class. Sophia lived in the house with the big red door on Ridgewood Road, which was precisely a three-minute walk from my house (not including the shortcut through Mr. Burns’ rose bush garden). Sophia and I did everything together. On Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays we would take the bus back to her house, where we often rode our bikes outside or helped her brother, Jason, wash dishes at 101, the local deli and ice cream shop. Sophia’s mom said that we weren’t allowed to play at Sophia’s house on Thursdays and Fridays. She said that Mr. Cunningham had a lot of work to do and didn’t need two kids running around under his feet. So, on Thursdays and Fridays, we would take the school bus back to my house, where we played outside in the tree house that my dad and brother had built for us. When the sun sunk behind the tall sugar maples in my backyard and the tree house soon became dark and cold, we both knew that Sophia’s mom would be expecting her home soon.

Summer rolled around, and Sophia and I only spent more time together. I remember one day in July specifically. It was hot and humid, a heat advisory was issued, which was rare for Rhode Island. Sophia and I had spent the day at the beach, our pink towels sprawled across the sand, two brown paper bags left over from our favorite lunch of turkey and cheese sandwiches. We made our way to 101 to help Jason wash the dishes. As we walked down Main Street, Sophia began to seem apprehensive.

“I have to tell you something…” She said.

“All right what is it?” I said as I dragged the pink towel along the sidewalk.

“We are moving to Memphis before school starts. It’s for my dad’s job. They are relocating him.”

“Memphis?” I remarked.

We had learned about Memphis in geography this year with Ms. Parson. It was in Tennessee.

“We are leaving tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? What? Why so soon?”

“I don’t know my parents only told me today. They sat me and Jason down this morning and told us we had to have our suitcases packed by tonight because we are leaving when it gets dark out. They seemed really scared. Probably just because they don’t want to leave too. I’m so sorry Sophia.”

My heart sank into my chest as my world spun upside down. I suddenly thought about next year and what it would be like not having my best friend attached to my hip. Who would I play in the treehouse with? Who would I go to 101 with? Who would I sit with on the bus? Fifth grade was going to be a big year. I didn’t know how I was going to survive it without Sophia.

School started on September 6th and I soon began to become accustomed to not seeing Sophia every day, but I never forgot about her. My family made plans to visit the Cunningham’s in Illinois one weekend in early September. I couldn’t contain my excitement. In addition to an apartment in Memphis, the Cunningham family had bought a house on the Mississippi. Since my family and her family would not fit comfortably in the small city apartment, we planned to spend the weekend on the river. Sophia and I had been planning all the different activities and adventures we would go on for months. We were determined to make the most of the weekend.

When the end of September rolled around, my family and I packed our bags and headed to Illinois. After around two hours up in the air, we finally landed. I hastily squeezed my way up to the front of the plane to make sure I was the first one off.

“Someone’s eager!” said the flight attendant with the blonde hair slicked back into a tight bun and ruby red lipstick.

“Yeah! My best friend’s waiting for me!”

When I finally got off the plane and reunited with Sophia, we fell right back into our old habits.

The first day on the river, Sophia and I made an ambitious list of all the things we wanted to do together. We woke up early to watch the sunrise on the Mississippi from the wooden balcony outside Sophia’s room. As the sun rose behind the trees, my mind went back to the tall sugar maples in my backyard and the tree house Sophia and I would play in until the sun set. The smell of bacon and pancakes led us downstairs.

After breakfast, the sun was already high in the sky and shining brightly. Although it was late September, it was still in the mid-70s. Sophia and I made our way out back to the wooden dock. The dock was already stained with wet footprints from our brothers, who beckoned for us to come in the water. I grabbed a red and yellow floaty tube and jumped into the river. As the cold water consumed me I breathed in a sharp breath of air. Sophia and Jason introduced a game to my brother and I called “Straws”. One person would throw a clear straw into the water while everyone else closed their eyes. Once the straw was in the water, everyone would turn around and try to find the thin, clear tube of plastic disguised by the river. The first person to see it would yell “straw!” and jump in to grab it. We jumped in and out of the water, paddled around in tubes and swam about for hours. When our fingers became wrinkled raisins, we headed inside.

Sophia and I each made turkey and cheese sandwiches, which we ate in lawn chairs that were bigger than ourselves. Our feet dangled off the chairs, our toes just touching the grass. As we scarfed down our sandwiches in our bikinis, wet with the water from the Mississippi, I had never felt happier.

At the end of the day, when the sun reflected an array of different oranges and pinks on the Mississippi, I looked over at Sophia to my left and felt at peace knowing deep down that our friendship was not conditional. In a way, I was almost glad she moved to Illinois. This way we could go on adventures and try new things together not only in Rhode Island but also in Illinois. Maybe this Illinois thing wasn’t so bad after all.

After dinner, stomachs stuffed with burgers, hotdogs, potato salad and coleslaw, Sophia and I decided to set up a tent on the dock to sleep under the stars for our last night together. However, I heard Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham arguing about whether or not it was safe for us to sleep outside.

“Charlotte I don’t think you are thinking clearly. They can’t sleep outside. It’s not safe,” Sophia’s Dad said to her Mom.

“Honey, then what was the point of us moving. We got away from them. You don’t have to worry anymore, they can’t threaten us here. We need to let Sophia live a little. Come on they never see each other. It’s just one night, what’s the worst that could happen?” Mrs. Cunningham questioned.

That was when Sophia and I barged into the kitchen to clear our plates and the conversation between the two parents ceased. Sophia’s parents smiled down at us and Mrs. Cunningham told us to go set up camp on the dock. I didn’t think much of their conversation after that.

Sophia and I ran outside to the shed to grab flashlights and a tent. The night air was eerie – thick with fog and it unusually dark for 9:00 pm. The shed door was red but most of the paint had been chipped off. The windows were pitch black and I started to think I saw someone watching us through the glass, but immediately reassured myself it was just my reflection. I stepped back and let Sophia open the shed door, but only because she knew where the flashlights and tent were. Sophia unhinged the shed door and began to open it. That’s when I heard a splintering scream. I felt my heart thumping, like a bass drum in my chest. I soon realized it wasn’t a scream I heard, just the shed door creaking open.

Sophia gave me a questioning look and stepped into the shed in search of the flashlights and tent. She came out with two large yellow flashlights, a few large stake poles, and a tent. While Sophia hulled our camping essentials to the dock, I grabbed the pillows blankets sleeping bags, our favorite stuffed animals, magazines, and some candy. Once our campsite was set up on the dock, we said goodnight to our parents and brothers who would be sleeping in the house for the night and then made our way back outside to the dock.

As we walked to the tent I restlessly scanned left and right, aware of the smallest of sounds. I didn’t know what I expected to hear or see, but I felt on edge in a way that I had never felt in the treehouse, at 101 Deli and Ice Cream Shop, or even when cutting through Mr. Burn’s rose bush garden. I apprehensively unzipped the tent and crawled inside my royal blue sleeping bag. The sanctuary of the well-lit, warm tent and Sophia’s presence made me feel safer. We snuggled down under mountains of blankets and pillows and talked about anything and everything, as we ate from a giant family size bag of Skittles. Skittles were our favorite candy. I liked the green and purple ones and Sophia liked the red, yellow and orange. We munched on the colorful candies, gossiped, and laughed until our voices grew horse and our tongues were stained different colors from all the Skittles we had eaten. Finally, we decided to turn off our flashlights and go to bed; I had to be up early for our flight back home the next morning anyway. I set an alarm on my cracked iPhone 4 for 4:30 am and slowly drifted to sleep with the gentle sway of the Mississippi river underneath the dock.