In the beginning，we bristled at each other on the school bus.Gina was a tough kid，and I guess as a defense mechanism，she always put on that toughkid armor when necessary.After a week or so of school，we started talking.And since she was the only kid in the area of my age，we really kind of fell intogether.My folks were divorced and barely spoke unless they had to.I’d just moved 600 miles from the only home I’d ever known in Mississippi and I was homesick，and she had no real home.Once we realized we both had wounds to lick，it clicked，and we became inseparable.She was a grade beneath me，so we had no classes together.But as soon as we’d board the school bus in the afternoon until it was time for bed，we were together.
We lived on the beach.It was a five-minute walk from where we lived，just a matter of crossing the road.If it was warm，I’d get off the bus and hurriedly do my chores that had to be finished before my mom got home from work.Then quickly get into my bathing suit.We’d meet up with our towels and smokes and head for the sand.I’d just started smoking when I met Gina.She smoked，not surprisingly，and when I was with her，I didn’t think about what my mom would do if she found out.In a way，I guess I wanted to emulate her free spirit.It wasn’t years later that I realized the intense sadness she must have felt.
About midway into the school year，Gina’s sister asked her to come and live with them in Connecticut.I never understood why it took her so long to ask.She knew Gina’s circumstances and where she was living.Gina’s mom stayed drunk all the time，and I think they had a big failing out，and Gina left home.That’s when she came to live behind me.Her mom didn’t want her，at least that’s what Gina said.
So Gina left me.I was heartbroken.But at the same time，I was so happythat she was going to be with her sister.I thought that if she was with family，she’d be OK.We wrote each other letters at least twice a week，but four months later she came back.I got several stories from Gina as to why it didn’t work out.I have my own theories.
Time went on，the school year was coming to a close，and my 15th birthday was just around the corner.My mom and I moved to Taft.Gina stayed behind with yet another person somewhere in corpus，but we wrote letters，and kept in touch.Taft was only 18 miles away.After we were there about 6 months，Gina was again without a place to live，and the nuns were looking for somebody to take her so she wouldn’t be placed in a foster home.The story I got is Gina started having a thing with the lady’s，that she lived with，19-year-old son.Gina was just fourteen at the time，and she asked Gina to move.Actually，she saw this guy off and on for a while.Gina was loose.She was desperately looking for somebody to love her in the only way she knew how.And it cost her.So we became her foster family，of sorts.I was worried.My mom and I were living so skimpily as it was.We barely had money to pay the bills，and a couple of times we had our electricity turned off for nonpayment.I was worried about having another person to feed.But I loved her，and my mom felt sorry for her.She could see a little of herself in Gina too.We had so much fun！We both soon had steady dates，and we went out together every weekend.We even played hooky together，even got caught once，was put indetention for a whole day，and we missed having our school pictures taken that day.In the school yearbook，for that year，where my picture should be，there’s a little character man with a barrel around his middle and a sign on it that says：“Photo not available.”Actually，I believe it was one of the factors that started the beginning of the end to Gina’s stay with us.I think my mom was afraid she’d“rub off on me”。I’m a mom now and I can better understand.
Gina was wild，and you can’t cage a wild animal for long.She was with us about eight months.I remember it was winter again.Money was tight，and food was scarce.Gina liked the wild life.My mom didn’t allow the type of life，for a teenage girl，that she was used to.So Gina called someone else she knew，and made arrangements to leave us.
I remember the night she left.It was the last time I ever saw her.We’d shared a room for so many months，and it was so empty after she left.I missed her terribly.I remember her putting her stuff into the back of a white car.I’ll never forget watching her shut the lid down，and turned to me with a smile and saying，“Well，this is it，I guess.”I replied“Yeah…you take care of yourself.Don’t drink and smoke too much.”We laughed and hugged.She said，“Speak for yourself！”Then we cried.She’d been my best friend for the better part of two years and I knew，something inside me knew，that I would never see her again.
I didn’t get many letters this time.Just one from the place she went to from ours.Then about two years later，I got a letter from her，and she was inMissouri.She’d had a baby，by a married man.“But he loves me，”she wrote.I felt very sad，and wondered if she’d ever really find what she so desperately wanted.Or what she thought she wanted，but not necessarily what she needed.
I never heard from her again，after the second letter.I wrote back，but never got a response.To this day I don’t know what happened to her，if she’s alive，or where she is.When she left，she took part of me with her.We became like twins，and when she was gone，I felt like I’d lost something inside me.Something deep，spirit-like.She was so full of life，and didn’t dwell on her situation，at least not outwardly.And we were close，we shared everything.
I still think of her often，after all these years.Two young girls reaching womanhood on different paths.Yet each path is familiar to the other.She still has the ability to make me smile，and appreciate all that I have and all that I am.
