At 6, I Promised My Best Friend with Down Syndrome We’d Go to Prom Together – 12 Years Later, Mom Said I Could Go with Him Only on One Condition
Her voice sounded strange.
“You have to hear something first.”
“About what, Mom?”
Her eyes flicked toward the closed bedroom door.
“About Noah.”
My heart pounded.
“What about him?”
“And about me.”
She sat on the edge of my bed.
“What about him?”
Then she said something I never expected.
“I owe both of you the truth.”
***
Noah and I met because of raisins.
We were six.
Our first-grade teacher had given everyone those little red boxes during snack time.
I was quietly stuffing mine beneath a napkin when the boy beside me whispered, “That’s smart.”
“I owe both of you the truth.”
I looked over.
He was doing exactly the same thing.
“You hate them?” I asked.
“They’re old grapes.”
I considered this.
“They are.”
“Old grapes are gross,” he said.
That settled it.
By lunch, we were best friends.
Then dinosaurs helped.
By lunch, we were best friends.
Noah knew an unreasonable amount about dinosaurs and had strong opinions about which one would win in a fight.
I drew them.
Badly.
The first time I showed him my Tyrannosaurus rex, he stared at the page for several seconds.
“What is… that? It looks like a potato with arms!”
” It looks like a potato with arms!”
I shoved him.
He laughed so loudly our teacher separated us.
Noah had Down syndrome.
At six, that mattered to me considerably less than the fact that he cheated at dinosaur trivia by memorizing the answers before asking me the questions.
Our friendship was simple.
Until another kid made it complicated.
Noah had Down syndrome.
***
One afternoon, our teacher announced she was getting married.
The class exploded.
Everyone had opinions.
Chocolate cake.
Vanilla cake.
Flowers.
Music.
Somebody insisted a wedding needed a trampoline.
Noah raised his hand.
“My wedding will have chocolate cake.”
Our teacher smiled.
