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  she remembered that stare on her friend’s face, and watched it change as they both grew.

  Through the years, the stare had taken on a more refined look, more precise and keen to the

  images and thoughts going through the complex mind of her friend. Margaret had arrived in the

  world one day before Amy. The two girls watched one another grow into the women they had

  become. A bond between them had forged even before they could walk, and nothing had ever

  threatened that bond, even to this day.

  “Hey Margaret, whatcha doin?” Amy spoke out in her timid and soft voice.

  Margaret jumped in surprise at the intrusion. Her thoughts quickly escaped her mind as

  she returned to the reality of her surroundings. It took no time at all for Margaret to recognize the

  person in her doorway. She looked over at the long haired girl as she collected her strength to get

  up from the bed and speak to her. The interruption had disturbed an enjoyable thought, but

  brought her back to the reality of the day around her, and Margaret knew it was time to get back

  to the present.

  Amy wore shorts, eager to enjoy the early spring sunshine. Her legs still showed the

  remnants of the long winter, though a little change of color had occurred in the pigments from a

  few afternoons of tennis the week before. From Margaret’s position on the bed, Amy looked

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  taller, but it was just an optical illusion. Amy stood only slightly taller than five and a half feet,

  and was an inch and a half shorter if you didn’t count her tightly curled brown hair.

  She was much shorter than Margaret, who stood only a couple of inches short of six feet.

  Amy didn’t possess the strength of Margaret either. Margaret could do more pull-ups than most

  of the guys in town and her strong, firm legs exhibited the years of exercise. Her shapely build

  didn’t hide the many feminine features and her womanly curves. She was a lady as well as an

  athlete.

  “Hey Amy, you scared me to death,” spoke Margaret, trying to calm her speeding pulse.

  Amy’s frame looked much less threatening. Though she often joined Margaret in her

  recreational activities, she hadn’t worked as hard to increase her muscle density and strength.

  Amy’s mother had taught her the importance of good health, and her slim body and well-toned

  muscles demonstrated that she had taken that guidance seriously. She tackled fitness with much

  less ambition, however, than she pursued the other avenues for her future. Amy had always

  directed her efforts towards her schoolwork. She had a dream to become a doctor, and thus she

  conquered books, not mountains.

  “I’m sorry,” apologized Amy, looking around the spotless room. “I just thought I would

  stop by and see what you’re doing. Your mom sent me up. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I was just daydreaming,” replied Margaret, pulling her hair from her

  face, allowing it to all hang to the opposite side. The soft honey blond hair looked thick and well

  cared for. Margaret took pride in her long hair, buying the best conditioners and treatments to

  care for it. “It’s time I got up and did something anyway. What do you want to do?”

  “Well, my mom’s having dinner in about an hour. I figured that since your parents are

  going out with their friends, you might want to come join us. My dad’s out on business and so it

  would just be the three of us.”

  “I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” answered Margaret.

  “Great, I already asked your mom if she minded, and she seemed all right with the idea.

  We can leave whenever you would like.”

  “Let’s go ahead and leave now. It’s a shame to waste all this wonderful weather by sitting

  around in the house. I’d love to head over and mess around in your backyard.”

  “Yeah, maybe my mom will let us eat out on the back porch. The weather is so nice

  outside, and the bugs aren’t bad yet. It will be the first backyard picnic of the year.”

  Margaret pushed herself up off the bed, and walked over to her closet, removing a light

  sweater and her tennis shoes. She wore a pair of sweat pants, which she had cut off about midthigh,

  and a T-shirt. She raised her arms up high above her, pulling the sweater down over the

  shirt. When she did this, the muscles in back and shoulders tightened up, displaying the total

  strength of her body. Amy didn’t notice her friend’s well-defined muscles. While easily observed

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  by those who might admire the girl, Margaret was not a weight lifter, and did not try to attain a

  large amount of muscle mass. Her strength served a purpose, and efficiency weighed heavier

  than mass in that purpose. Amy noticed her friend’s grace and elegance as she walked. Several

  years of ballet and modern dance had taught both girls that, but Margaret applied that grace to

  everything she did, even scaling mountains. She sat down in the gliding rocking chair and pulled

  her shoes over the socks she wore around the house. Margaret certainly didn’t fit the typical

  image of the female mountain climber.

  The two girls left the room and headed down the stairs to the front door of Margaret’s

  house. Margaret could hear her mother nervously pacing the floor in the kitchen, but couldn’t see

  her as they reached the door. She yelled back a good-bye to her mother as she left the house. Her

  father had still not returned home from work, but Margaret knew he would arrive any minute.

  For a doctor, he kept his appointments quite well.

  “Can I have some more muffins?” Amy asked her mother.

  “Sure,” her mother answered as she handed them across the table to her daughter. “I

  forgot your father wasn’t going to be home when I started cooking. There’s plenty more where

  those came from.”

  Amy didn’t mind that her mother referred to the man as her father. After almost ten years

  of marriage to her mother, he had become the father figure in her life. She sometimes even

  referred to him as dad, but usually kept things on a first name basis. The relationship she had

  with her parents was a strong one, and she had never rebelled against the man whom her mother

  had chosen as a lifetime mate. Her mother had never forced the strong relationship between Amy

  and her stepfather, it just happened.

  It didn’t bother Amy that she had to share her mom with someone else after eight years of

  life as child in a single parent home. They did pretty well on their own, but Daren had filled a

  void that her mother needed. He never came between their impregnable relationship, and Amy

  saw him as a means to enhance their lives and a person to share the good times together. Her

  mother had even asked her approval before marrying Daren, something which meant a lot to a

  young girl afraid that she might get brushed aside. Not many daughters are flower girls in their

  mother’s own wedding, and Daren was a good father to her.

  “This is really good, Mrs. Jensen,” Margaret complimented, taking more chicken from

  the small outdoor table. All three ladies wore sweaters during the meal. They realized that the

  evening dinner on the porch was still a little premature for the early spring, but nobody seemed

  to mind. It felt good to get o
utside and enjoy the spring weather. Margaret had eaten many meals

  on this deck, and this year promised many more. She glanced around the scenery which

  surrounded her, realizing for the first time that these events she sometimes took for granted,

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  would slowly draw to a close. Her life had major changes ahead, as did Amy’s, and soon the

  nights like this would only pop up as fond memories in her endless daydreams. The thought

  made her appreciate the evening even more.

  The colors of life in the lawn had started to creep through the layer of dead vegetation

  remaining from a long winter. In time, the deep colors produced by the ample rainfall would

  span out across the well cared for backyard flower garden, which Mrs. Jensen held such great

  pride in. The small blades of grass weaving their way to the surface were only an indication of

  what lay ahead for the future.

  “Thank you, Margaret, but please, call me by my first name. I don’t know how many

  times in my life I’ve told you not to call me Mrs. Jensen. It makes me feel really old. I’ll have to

  quit inviting you over if you keep making me feel like an old woman.”

  Margaret smiled at the reminder. Amy’s mother always had a fun sense of humor, and

  Margaret thought of her more as one of the girls than her best friend’s mom. Margaret didn’t like

  to upset the woman, but enjoyed her friendly teasing. The accidental usage of etiquette was the

  fault of background, and not intended to offend Amy’s mother. She had much respect for the

  woman.

  Mrs. Jensen was right. As long as Margaret could remember, she had told Margaret to

  refer to her by her first name. It was quite different from her own home, where you addressed

  people in a respectful voice. Her father told her that respecting adults meant using proper titles

  when speaking to them. Her parents had taught the children proper etiquette at a young age, and

  old habits die hard. At Amy’s house, things were much more laid back.

  Mrs. Jensen always did seem younger to Margaret. After all she had gone through in her

  life, she still looked at the world with a smile. She took good care of herself and had an

  incredible figure, especially for someone in her late thirties. Margaret sometimes teased Amy

  that guys came to visit her just to get a look at her mother. She and Amy could stand next to one

  another and look like sisters, and many people mistook them for just that. They were about the

  same size.

  The sun began to creep down below the mountains in the distance. Margaret knew there

  wasn’t much time left before the light would cease altogether. The air grew cooler as evening set

  in across the small valley. Margaret didn’t mind though. She enjoyed the cool spring evenings.

  The addition of a light jacket to one’s wardrobe could keep you warm here, and the darkness

  helped to hide the mountains which surrounded the valley. Millions of tiny stars would soon

  cover the clear sky above, and starlight felt romantic.

  Margaret reached over and patted the dog that sat beside her on the deck. The loyal

  animal had remained there patiently for some time, making it apparent that he wished to taste

  some small morsels of the food from their plates. Amy noticed also, and handed him a small

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  piece of the pork chop bone to gnaw on. Moments later, the excited creature ran off joyfully in

  the yard to enjoy his reward.

  “It’s a good thing that the evenings here are cool enough to take some of the heat from

  the day out of the houses,” Margaret noted. “With as warm as it’s been this last week, our house

  is blistering hot during the day. Looks like it’ll be another scorching summer.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” agreed Amy. “I’ve had to live all my life with my bedroom

  receiving direct sunlight for the majority of the day. What do you say, mom, after five years of

  begging, are you going to let me spend my last three months at your house in the basement

  where it’s cool?”

  Amy’s mother looked at her sternly, and gave her an unrelenting smile. Amy knew she

  had failed in her attempt again. Amy glanced at Margaret who watched them both. The look on

  Amy’s face assured Margaret that the girl did not expect her mother to budge on this one.

  “I’ve tried for years to get her to let me move into the basement,” Amy explained. “I’ve

  used every approach, but still my mom insists on having me sleep in the room right next to her

  own. We have all sorts of space downstairs in the basement where I could sleep. She could turn

  my room into an office for herself and then we would all have more privacy.”

  “I’m sorry, Amy,” answered her mother as she stood up to carry some of the dishes back

  into the house. “But even when your married, and bring home your husband and kids, I’m going

  to have you all sleep in your old room. I want you as close to me as I can during these last few

  months. After that, there will be hundreds of miles separating us, but until then, you’ll stay on

  the same level of the house as I am.”

  “It was worth a try,” noted Margaret. “My room gets only the morning sunshine. But

  being on the second story keeps it fairly warm during the summer.”

  Margaret and Amy helped carry the rest of the dishes inside the house. The three worked

  together to fill the dishwasher and a few minutes later retired to the living room to relax. Amy’s

  mother picked up her book beside the couch and began searching for her page. While her

  husband was away, she had the extra time to read her steamy novels, without him teasing her

  about them.

  “So what are the two of you doing tonight?” she asked without looking up from her book.

  “We’re gonna go hunt down the guys,” answered Amy. “Maybe try talking them into a

  movie and getting something to eat afterwards.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Margaret, “but, we haven’t planned anything. We could end up doing just

  about anything. You know Deer Hollow, there’s always something going on,” she continued

  sarcastically.

  “Just don’t stay out too late,” reminded Amy’s mother. “You aren’t in college yet. We

  still have curfews for high school students.”

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  “Only two more weeks, mom,” Amy scorned her mother. “Then you’ll wish you’d never

  hassled us our last year of school.”

  “What are you talking about?” kidded Mrs. Jensen. “Until you start college, you’re still

  considered a high school student to me. You still have another three months of my harassment

  before you can consider yourself free from parental guidance.”

  “We’ll be home before eleven, Mrs. Jensen,” assured Margaret as the two girls walked

  out the door to Amy’s car.

  Margaret sat down at her small desk that evening, after getting home fairly late. Her

  parents had already gone to sleep, leaving the house as an empty solitude to welcome her home.

  The soft glow from the tiny lamp provided the small amount of light she needed for her evening

  task.

  She opened her top desk drawer and removed the small bound book from inside. She

  picked up
her pen and began to write down the daily events in her journal. She had kept a journal

  ever since her mother taught her how to write. It had become a ritual to her. She began the entry

  the way her mother had taught her as a child.

  “...Thursday, May 20, 1993

  Another less than exciting Thursday night in the town of Deer Hollow. If it weren’t for

  Amy and her friendship, I swear I would go insane. She keeps things interesting and always

  seems to make me smile.

  I don’t know why I complain so much. I know I’ve got things pretty good here. We

  stopped by to see Jeremy, but he was busy studying for a final exam in his Biology class. I can’t

  believe he has a final. It seems so strange to me. I guess it isn’t that odd, after all, he is still a

  Junior. Only the seniors are immune to finals the last quarter of the year.

  Our plans to see a show were shattered by Jeremy’s study time, so Amy and I went out

  for ice cream by ourselves. We drove around trying to find a volleyball game or something

  exciting going on at the park, but nobody was out tonight.

  We stopped by to see Brandon. He was working at the restaurant and didn’t get off until

  about ten, so Amy and I just went down to the park and sat around swinging by ourselves most

  of the night. We did all make plans to go up in the canyon tomorrow evening. We might even do

  a little bit of repelling as long as we’re up there.

  It will at least give Jeremy and me a chance to be alone. I haven’t had the opportunity to

  spend much time with him lately. I don’t know what will become of us in the next few months.

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  We seem to be headed in different directions, and I don’t want to be locked in a relationship back

  home while I’m away at college. I think we both know that an ending is inevitable.

  I know it will be the best for both of us. I’ve seen him checking out some of the other

  girls at school lately. I think he’s looking for some space, and I’m fairly sure he isn’t the sort of

  guy I want to spend the rest of my life with. We’ve had our good and bad times, but he isn’t what

  I dream about when I think of myself in twenty years. I like him a lot, but I don’t feel like I’m in

  love with him.

  I want to see some other guys too. I don’t want anything physical, I just want to play the