For as long as I could remember, my best friends, Johnny and Erik-I call him Ricky-had been . . . well, my best friends. They were so funny and easy to talk to, and they were very sweet. They were so adorable, but they were just my buddies. Don't get me wrong, they were both totally boyfriend-material. Just not for me.
We were seniors in high school. It was a little strange, because we were friends with everyone-and I do mean everyone-but our only really close friends were each other. No one else really knew the real Madison (me) or Ricky or Johnny.
We hung out at my house all the time, for many reasons. My parents were never home, we always had a full-stocked refrigerator (though we had to re-stock it after Ricky came over), and they said my house was enormous, though I didn't think so.
We stayed in the attic most of the time, which we dubbed 'The Black Hole' because we had a bunch of junk and music stuff and a TV, a VCR, a DVD player, and an N64 stored in there.
We all loved music. We were thinking about forming a band. We talked about that in The Black Hole a lot. We could play songs in there, and work on choreography and stuff in the studio I talked Daddy into having built for me in the basement. The problem was, we needed two more guys.