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My Best Friend Next Door

I have a special place in my heart for best friends. That’s one of the reasons I loved writing my soon-to-be-published first middle grade novel, Best Friend Next Door. When I was growing up, my best friend lived three houses down. I moved onto Centennial Avenue when I was nine. When I heard that a girl around my age lived on the corner, I rang her big formal front doorbell. Her older sister Tasha answered and I asked, “Can Stephie come out to play?”

Stephie wasn’t home that day, but I didn’t give up. We played the next day or the next.  We didn’t stop playing until the day I tearfully left for Vassar nine years later.

I never used Stephie’s front door again and she didn’t use mine either.  It was all about back doors after that.  We even stopped knocking.  We opened each other’s fridges. We turned the channels on each other’s TVs. We rolled around on each other’s rugs, laughing and clutching our bellies over yet another hilarious inside joke.

Friendship, when you’re a kid, is so much about being lumped together with whomever is in your radius.  But best friendship is another thing. Best friendship is about chemistry and love and that special thing that makes you want to spend everysecondtogether.

In honor of best friends, and of Best Friend Next Door, I’m asking everyone to take to Twitter with a childhood picture of you and your best friend. Tag me @carolynmackler, and use the hashtag #BestFriendNextDoor. I’d love to see as many as possible. Oh, and hey, here are mine:

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PS Now Stephie lives in Chicago where she is raising her two sons.  I live here in New York City where I’m raising my two sons.  We still talk as much as we possibly can.

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