Right away, Margaret was kneeling next to me. "Are you okay? Are you okay?" she asked. "Richard, you big , what were you thinking? This is my best friend, and if you want to mess with someone, don't pick her. Oh—and you at soccer!" At this point, I was on my back, and my head shot up when I heard the words "best friend." I squinted and saw Margaret standing above me. She extended her hand. She was ready to help me up. She grinned. From then on, I knew who my best friend was. She didn't care what age I was, and never would. To this day, we both have the framed picture of us at the bus stop that first day of camp.