Opening your window, you peered over into the Langdon household as you grabbed a decorative rock, tossing it at the window across from your house, which was connected to Michael’s room.

“Michael!” you yelled, in attempt that he would hear you.

With your luck, there was no one.

When you and your mother had first moved to Las Angeles and gave out cookies to each of your neighbors, the last thing you expected was to become best friends with one of them. You remember what Michael looked like the day you knocked on his door; he was scrawny, frail, and had messy blond hair that hung over his forehead.

Ever since you two had met, you hadn’t spent a day without each other. Living right next to each other was just a bonus. “A blessing in disguise,” Michael would say.

Taking another rock and throwing it at his bedroom window again, you shouted even louder, “Michael!”