• She always wore the oddest clothing. My mother was a fashion designer, so I knew the names of the styles she wore. Of course, that and my orientation made me a prime target for teasing and bullying. But I’ll tell you about that later. Anyway, she would be wearing a bright green lantern-sleeved shirt with a sweetheart neckline and a black godet skirt with white flats one day, and a purple cascade front shirt over orange skinny jeans and pink ankle boots the next. I admired her individuality and her bravery to be so different. The outfit I liked best was one she wore at least once a month; an orange and gray sweater dress over black leggings and white “Gladiator” sandals, as my mother called them. I myself chose to wear mainly v-necks and skinny jeans with sneakers, although a few times I seriously considered switching to a not-so-gay wardrobe, but I never went through with it. But anyway, she had thick wavy blonde hair that reached her waist, sly green eyes that gave her the mischievous look, and creamy white skin. I was the exact opposite; shaggy black hair that was constantly getting into my eyes, which are dark gray, and mocha colored skin. She had top grades, and I was barely keeping up with my C+-average.
    Even her name was odd. Her parents had a love for space and the stars, so they named her Estrella, which means ‘star’ in Spanish. My name is pretty normal. My parents named me after my great-grandfather, Joseph Green. I think her middle name was Rosalina, or something like that. I don’t know what was with her name being Spanish; she was French. She was born in Paris, and moved to California when she was six. So she had a gorgeous French accent, and I loved listening to her speak.
    So I’ll bet you’re wondering, “Why does this guy know so much about this girl!?” Well, we were best friends, from the first time we met in our freshman year of high school, all the way to...well, I’ll get to that. She was a firm believer in gay rights, and she once got in trouble for asking to start an LGBT club at the school. We became friends after she stood up to a couple boys-who were much taller than her-when she saw them bullying me after school. Unfortunately for them, they underestimated her and tried to beat her up. One of them ended up with a black eye and a bloody nose, while the other one lost a tooth and got his nose broken. After that, I started to hang out with her at lunch and after school, and we became close friends. I learned everything about her, and she learned everything about me. I knew her favorite singer was Adam Lambert, her favorite color was rainbow, and when she had her first kiss. She knew that Adam Lambert was my favorite singer as well, that I hated Miley Cyrus, and that I hadn’t had a boyfriend for a year.
    So, anyway, she kept earning top grades and working her way to an honors graduation, and my grades slowly dropped lower, and I eventually dropped out of high school. She tried to convince me to stay, but I told her that I wouldn’t graduate anyway. She offered to help me get my grades up, but I wouldn’t accept it. I was there when she graduated at the top of her class, and she was pleased to see me. About three months after she graduated, she moved out of her parent’s house and into an apartment in Northridge. She majored in pediatrics at CSUN, and became a pediatrician. I visited her occasionally, but I could tell that a crack had appeared between us, and it widened with every passing week. When she was twenty-eight, she invited me to her wedding. I went, but I didn’t feel like I belonged there. I didn’t go to the reception. A year later, she had her first child; a boy that she named Alexander. I think it was a coincidence that Alexander is my middle name. She stopped visiting after that, but she called a few times each month. Eventually, those stopped too. I found a boyfriend who really loved me, and he proposed. Out of courtesy, I invited Estrella to the wedding in Massachusetts, and she went. Her son was about three months old, so she left him home with her husband. She seemed genuinely happy for me, but I didn’t see her at the reception. Thomas and I went back to Palmdale, and started searching for a house to settle down in. We found a nice, three bedroom, two bathroom house in Northridge, and moved into it. I didn’t talk to Estrella very much anymore, but I sent her a card on her birthday, along with a gift certificate to her favorite spa. She didn’t send a card on my birthday, but a half page long letter and a small box. She wished me a happy birthday and good fortune in her letter, and at the end, in her neat cursive, she wrote, “Remember how I was in high school? Well, if you don’t, this present might help you remember.” Then she signed it ‘Love, Estrella’ with a little smiley face in the ‘o’ of ‘love.’ I opened the box to find a small pin that said ‘LGBT FTW’ in rainbow letters. I wear it every day, and each time I look at it, I remember all the good times Estrella and I had, and I smile.