Tell me your password.

I remember that conversation like it was yesterday.

Two of us 13 year olds who thought we were spice girls, sprawled across a bed pretending to be studying. Books flung into far corners, we talked about the cute guys at school, the cute guys on TV, the cute guys in our heads, and occasionally, about girls who were 'total pains'.

Then it was secret time.
You first. Me first. No. Yes. Please. Please...if you're really my friend....sheesh.

I had my hand in a bucket of cheese balls. My feet hurt from trying on her older sister's high heels. I didn't believe going back home was an option till I'd mastered Lesson No.4 The Nervous System. And then, she popped the question.

So, why can't you tell me your password. As if i'm going to check your mail.

Well, if you're not going to, why do you want to know.

You don't trust me?

OK, then you tell me your password.

You first, then I.

No.

Yes.

I don't remember her fighting with me again. But then, I don't remember her talking to me again either. You know what they say. You can't share your french fries with just anybody. Ditto for passwords.