It was my first day at my new school. I huddled into my jacket, trying to keep out the cold October breeze. Many of the kids at school had already made their friends. I stood by myself on the playground that first morning, unsure of what to do or how to approach anyone. Suddenly I was cast in shadows as the biggest, reddest-headed fifth grader I’d ever seen approached.

“Gimme your lunch money,” he demanded. I was only a few feet tall, being a mere second grader and small even for my age. The redhead loomed over me, an intimidating grin plastered onto his pre-pubescent face. “You gonna give it to me or what, kid?”

“Hey!” I heard a sharp cry from across the playground. A young girl, about my age, came sauntering over to us. ‘C’mon Johnny, ain’tcha got somethin’ better to do? Leave her alone.” she had one hand on her hip; the other clutched her falling-down, baggy jeans.

“Yeah, or what?” Johnny replied defiantly, stepping away from me and up to the other girl. She was much taller than many of the boys on the playground. She came up to Johnny’s chest, while I could only reach his belly button. Grabbing his flimsy t-shirt with both skinny fists, she stared hard into his moon-shaped face.

“Or I’ll hit you so hard, your mother will feel it, Johnny Wilson, and I mean that.”

Johnny put up both of his freckled hands in surrender. He could hear the menace in her voice, just like I could. He backed away very slowly and then turned around and hurried off.

The mysterious tough-girl turned to me then. She stood there for a bit, studying me while chewing the end of one of her long, black braids. Finally, she spoke up.

“Hey, I’m Carla.”

“I’m-I’m Valerie.”

“Hi, Valerie. Listen, you gotta learn to stick up for yourself if you’re gonna stick around here, or boys like Johnny’ll beat you up.”

I looked down at my crisp white dress and shiny black shoes. Suddenly I felt self-conscious standing next to this girl who clearly picked out all her own outfits, who clearly knew how to stick up to a big kid like Johnny Wilson. “They would beat-beat me up?” I stammered.

“Yeah, they sure would. These kids can be pretty mean. That’s why I stick to myself most times. ‘Sides, my momma told me most boys are only after one thing.”

“What’s that?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“She never told me, but I’m guessin’ it’s lunch money.”

“Lunch money?” She nodded. “Are you a third grader?” I asked hesitantly.

“Nah, I’m in second grade. I’m supposed to be in third, but they held me back ‘cause I got in too many fights last year.”

I didn’t know what to say. Here was this girl, practically towering over me, willing to protect a complete stranger from a terrorizing fifth grader. I had never met a girl like her-there were none at my old school. I had never seen a kid so confident, so strong, who spoke so improperly, and she was only nine years old. She was a refreshing contrast from the other girls I had called my friends, and I wasn’t about to turn her away; she was a keeper.

That day was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. It wasn’t just about protection and companionship in a tough school, either. Carla and I had a connection that no one could break. We began to share clothes, lunch money, and families. Her mother worked nights at the local diner, leaving her to spend many a school night at my house. Carla was welcomed into our home like she was my own sister. On weekends when she wasn’t working, Carla’s mother would kindly thank my mother for babysitting and offer to take over, often taking us out to movies or ice cream.

On the first day of third grade, we met Vincent and Josh, the new kids. Carla and I had watched from our corner of the playground as Johnny Wilson ambled up to them, this time with two other minions. I heard him growl in his new sixth-grader voice, “Gimme your lunch money, kid.” Kid. That was his thing.

The two new boys looked as scared as I had been the year before. Without speaking a word, Carla and I showed a knowing look and stood up. Brushing the chalk off of our pants, we walked over to the five boys. I went over and introduced myself to the new boys while Carla came up behind Johnny and poked him in the shoulder. Hard.

“How many times I gotta tell you, Johnny? You can’t go around takin’ people’s lunch money anymore, it’s mean.” She poked him again.

Johnny slowly turned around and got right in Carla’s face. He was bigger this year, broader. Five feet, two inches of pure jerk. Carla had grown, too; she now came up to his nose. She was much scarier this year.

“Quit pokin’ me, Carla.” He enunciated every word.

“Yeah? Or what, Johnny? You gonna hit me?”

Johnny looked taken aback. Of course, he would never hit Carla. Nobody in their right mind would ever hit Carla. Johnny played a big game, but we all knew he was terrified of her.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Leave these kids alone, all of you, or you’ll be sorry.” She lowered her eyelids and smacked her closed fist into her palm, a sign that she meant business.

After that first day of third grade, the four of us were thick as thieves. Carla and I now had two brothers and two new mothers to add to our family. We went everywhere together; we did everything together. My favorite memory was in March of 1969, when we were in the fourth grade. It was the morning the four of us were set to go to the zoo with my father. Josh and Vincent were dropped off early that morning, their hair neatly combed and their shirts tucked in. We all sat down on the couch, waiting for my father to finish shaving. My mother insisted that we looked so cute and she just had to get a picture of us.

Carla was so excited she could hardly sit still. She sat next to Josh with a goofy smile plastered across her face. Josh faced the camera and smiled like an eager schoolboy in his plaid button-down shirt. Vincent sat next to him, his hands in his lap. Squeezed onto the end of the couch was me, my hands clasped in excitement, my head thrown back in a perpetual laugh. I framed that photo and have kept it ever since. These were the people who made my smile, my family.

That summer, everything changed. Vincent’s father was offered a new, better job in some faraway state. We begged and pleaded for them to let him stay, but to no avail. He was gone before school started. Josh’s mother, our mother, became very sick with something they called cancer. Being only kids, we didn’t know what it meant or how serious it was. All we knew was that she acted like she was okay, but when she talked to us, we could hear the hopelessness in her voice. The day she passed away was the saddest of my life. I remember Carla and I went over to Josh’s house and held him and cried. We cried for hours, and when his father found us, he hugged us and told us everything was okay, but it wasn’t.

Looking back on that summer, I can’t imagine what going through it all would’ve been like if we were alone. If we hadn’t had each other, we would’ve been lost. We were a family, and everybody knew it. The photo from that spring day before the zoo is still on my bedside table. Although I am old and I remember few of the details from that day, I will never forget the fun we had. I will never forget how much we loved each other.