My eyes swept across the cafeteria. All the fourth-grade kids blurred into one. Boys into girls and girls into boys. I had no friends, but I did have the power of a brand new Kelly green sweater with large white snowflakes and a row of dark green buttons to match. Mom found it on sale, end of July, at the fancy department store, Two-Guys. And even though it was September, I liked that it was Christmassy. Because Christmassy meant showy. And showy meant important, like I was somebody. Flashy clothes can do that to a person.

The milk line was long and I was at the end of it. Lots of time to look around, get my bearings. Kids already seated were talking and laughing. The rest of us were shuffling through lines. While nervously rolling and re-rolling the top of my lunch bag, I began to examine the coat rack. Mostly brown and tan worn out jackets. Nothing stand-out, nothing special. And then I saw it!  Hanging low, person-less and limp, the twin to my sweater. 

I was furious, and so I puffed out a big breath. My whole life was ruined. Later on, in Mrs. Lombardo’s class, I pressed my number two pencil so hard into the slimy math paper, it ripped, just like my heart had ripped when I saw that sweater. I could think of nothing else, and I couldn’t wait to get home, and confront Mother. She had some explaining to do.

“I saw the same sweater, my sweater, hanging on the coat rack at school today!” I blasted not even halfway in the door.

“Did you see who was wearing it?” Mother said in her sweetly tense voice.

“No!” I seethed. Mother didn’t appear to understand the seriousness of the situation, so I stamped my foot and shouted, “Someone else has my sweater!” 

Mother made her lips into the shape of a butthole, which meant she was about to lecture me on mortal sins. There are seven of them: Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Anger, Envy, and Pride. And in one fleeting moment, I had committed three: Pride, Envy and Anger, and if things kept going the way they were, I was about to get Gluttonous just to make myself feel better. What did it matter, in my ten years, according to Mother, I had sinned a-plenty, meaning I was already damned to hell. 

“Why don’t you watch who gets the sweater and make friends with her?” 

What a blasphemous idea, but Mother was full of them, and I could think of nothing else. And so, the next day, I watched a skinny girl with long dark hair, a wide smile, and eyes the color of coal slowly pull the same sweater on, and after she did, she turned to me and said, “Hi. I’m Eileen Robinson. I like your sweater.” I was flabbergasted, and yet, I managed to force one side of my mouth into my cheek. It wasn’t my usual smile, but it would do.

Eileen Robinson had the same last name as Penny Robinson from the TV show, Lost in Space. She even looked like her. More importantly, her niceness pierced me like a ray gun, and then melted me. From that day forward, we walked home together, and became best friends.

Eileen’s family was different from mine. Unlike my mother, hers hugged, kissed and squeezed. And her roly-poly father spoke in a soft voice unlike my father who had arms like bowling pins, and always looked at me like a bull about to charge. 

“Where did you get that dog?” I asked Eileen one day referring to the orange stuffed animal in the corner of her bedroom. The one whose head almost touched the ceiling.

“My dad won it at the fair for me.” And then I remembered, spankings were all my dad ever gave me. 

After a year of best friends, the unthinkable happened. Eileen had to move to Arizona because she couldn’t breathe in New Jersey from something called asthma. I worried for her. If she couldn’t breathe, how would she possibly survive up until her leaving? And yet, somehow she did. One day, when I asked to go over Eileen’s house, Mother said she was gone. 

“But when?” I asked frantically. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I saw her in the car with her whole family. Everything was packed, and she was crying.” From that moment on, I stopped wearing my special sweater, and held my breath every time I passed her empty faded blue house. 

RAMONA JAN is the Founder and Director of Yarnslingers, a storytelling group that tells tales both fantastic and true. She is also the roving historian for Callicoon, NY and is often seen giving tours around town. You can email her at callicoonwalkingtours@gmail.com.