The last time I talked to him as a friend was a buggy June evening next to the duck pond. We laid in the scratchy green grass, looking up at the sky.

                “Kevin… you don’t have to move to Korea. I mean, you could try signing on to a record label here in the U.S., right?” I asked him tentatively.

                Kevin rolled around to face me. “Tanya, you’ve asked me this a million times already. I can’t quit now- they’ve already accepted me as a trainee.”         

                “But Kevin, you can’t just leave me and everyone else. We’re best friends, right? We’ve been through everything together. Remember when those upperclassmen said I was fat and called me Twinkie face? You stood up for me, and remember when-,”

                “-Mark and Jodi and Jessie called me a geek, and you punched them all?” Kevin interrupted, smiling wryly. “I remember. That doesn’t change anything, though. Wouldn’t it be awesome if I became a really famous Korean singer and showed them all up?”

                I huffed. “I don’t get why you have to be a Korean singer.” I knew why, though- Kevin was a good singer when he sang English songs, but when he sang Korean, it was beautiful. He would sing the words with more emotion and passion, and it sounded wonderful.

                “I promise I’ll stay in touch, Rubi, even though we’ll be far apart.” Kevin smiled at me, and I rolled my eyes and punched him playfully.

                “Cheesy much?” I laughed. “Make sure you put on your acne cream every night, weirdo.”

                “Hey, have fun at fat camp, chubsie.” Kevin retaliated, and we both laughed. After a few moments of silence, he added, “I’m going to miss you.”

                “Me too.” I replied.