“Adam the Prince”

Story written by Franklin Rayeski — Please do not use without crediting me

          Everyone had at least one friend back at Wetterling Elementary. I remember that I, personally, had a bunch that’d play with me at recess. Each friend was unique in their own way—there was always some quality that made each kid stand out to me. Specifically, one little girl always comes to mind. While everyone in our grade had at least three friends, Megan only had two: me and Adam the Prince.
          Megan was usually a shy kid that never wanted to play with anyone else. I don’t exactly remember why I was friends with her. Nevertheless, I was. If I wanted to hang out with her, I’d have to go to her hiding spot—a small patch of deflowered bushes that sat at the far end of the playground. The most memorable thing about her wasn’t any strange interest she had or any distinctive feature she possessed, rather it was her obsession with Adam the Prince.
          “Adam the Prince is my best friend,” she’d tell me. She’d go on and list the many wonderful things he did. She said he’d give her princess toys when her parents were away and shower her with candies and other sweets. She’d go on and on about how much Adam the Prince made her feel happy.
          If you asked her about his identity, Megan would say that he went to a different school. She’d say that he wasn’t like any other boy she knew. Physically, Adam the Prince was incredibly tall and owned a pair of enormous hands. “He’s our age,” she’d reassure me, “his body is just a little different.” If I tried to change the subject, she’d go back to talking about her prince.
          “Adam the Prince calls me beautiful,” she told me. His favorite hobby was making Megan happy. He liked to give her long hugs and loved to tickle her until she cried. “Adam the Prince isn’t his real name,” she said, “it’s just his nickname I picked out.” The name came from her favorite animated movie at the time. “Adam the Prince is my best friend,” she’d repeat, “he always calls me special!”
          Sometimes, when she finished talking about him, she’d tell me: “Oh, please don’t tell anyone else, he doesn’t want other kids to know.” There were a lot of times when she said odd things like that. Sometimes she’d confess that Prince Adam was mean and made her feel gross. Other times she’d explain, ad nauseam, one of their encounters at her street corner. Of course, I never really believed any of it. Even when she complained, she brushed it off and went back to worshiping him.
          By the time we graduated from Wetterling, Megan had moved away. She never told me that she was leaving and, for a while, it really hurt me. It hurt that she didn’t even bother telling her only other friend about her departure. Eventually, my feelings subsided and all that was left of her were memories. But every memory that I can think of consists of her rambling on about her best friend. Adam the Prince this and Adam the Prince that. The wonderful and the magnificent. Looking back, it really feels like it was all too good to be true.


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