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 plethora of friends 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 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 tell me all about the wonderful things he did. She said he’d give her princess toys when her parents were away and shower her with candies and confectioneries. She’d go on and on about how much Adam the Prince made her feel happy.
If asked about Adam the Prince’s identity, Megan would say that he went to a different school. She said that he wasn’t like any other boy she knew; Adam the Prince was incredibly tall and had ignoramus hands. “He’s our age,” she’d reassure me, “his body is just a little different.” Even though she didn’t specify any other features he had, she would still always find something to say. Even if I hadn’t brought him up, he’d just pop into every single one of our conversations.
“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 movie at the time. “Adam the Prince is my best friend,” she’d repeat, “he always calls me special!”
Of course, I wasn’t convinced Adam the Prince even existed. Every time she finished talking about him, she’d tell me: “Oh, please don’t tell anyone else, he doesn’t want other kids to know.” I knew it was just her imaginary friend, so I always played along. I guess I was just too afraid to tell her that he wasn’t real.
After we chatted and after we returned inside, Megan went back to her usual shy self. She never really seemed to emote besides when she was talking about Adam the Prince. It was like she wasn’t allowed to get excited over anything else; as if she was bottling up her emotions to later serve to her fictitious friend. I worried a little bit about her, but seeing as how happy she was when she brought him up, I let her be.
By the time we graduated from Wetterling, Megan had moved away. She never told me that she was leaving. For a while, it really hurt me 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 was a memory. 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. Full of love and of no ill intent. And far too good to be near any sort of truth.