Susie and Roberta became friends in 1970, when they both entered second grade. Susie had just moved from New Britain, Connecticut—a city of about 83,441 people—to the much smaller town of Brookline, Massachusetts, which had a population of just 58,886. The move was tough; they had to leave behind many friends and relatives. But Susie’s father had accepted a job offer he couldn’t turn down. Roberta didn’t mind where Susie came from—she was simply thrilled not to feel alone anymore. Now she had someone to share her deep love of music with.
The girls quickly bonded over their favorite artist, Carole King, whose songs felt as though they had been written just for them. They especially loved “You’ve Got a Friend,” declaring it their song. At least twice a week, they could be found in one of their bedrooms, holding hairbrushes like microphones, singing every word with special emphasis on “friend.”
They were inseparable. When they weren’t together, it showed in their moods and behavior. Over the years, they shared countless sleepovers, kept secret boyfriends, and attended parties their parents would never know about. Still, they were respectful and well-mannered girls—any parent would be proud. They were just a little mischievous, like most kids their age. They knew everything about each other and had nearly every class together, matching each other both socially and academically. Their conversations were endless and their bond unbreakable.
In eighth grade, they decided to spice things up by taking ice skating lessons at the local rink twice a week. They both became fairly skilled, and one Saturday they attended a public event at the rink. Two unruly boys were recklessly speeding around the ice, ignoring multiple warnings from staff. One of them, skating too fast, tried to pass Susie and collided with her, knocking her to the ground. His friend, close behind, didn’t have time to stop—and tragically, his skate ran over Susie’s neck.
Chaos erupted. People screamed. The boy who had caused the accident fled the rink, vomiting and sobbing. Roberta fainted. It took several attempts with smelling salts to revive her, and when she came to, she was hysterical. Paramedics tried to save Susie, but she didn’t survive. Roberta was consumed by grief as their memories flashed through her mind. Susie was taken away by ambulance, her devastated parents trailing behind. That night, Roberta refused to leave the rink until a female police officer gently persuaded her to go home with her own parents. They were thankful school would be closed for February break, giving Roberta time to grieve.
Susie was laid to rest before classes resumed. Roberta barely spoke to anyone for the remainder of the school year, only responding when absolutely necessary for schoolwork. Though many reached out to her, she would shut them down with the same line: “No one will ever replace Susie.”
The following year, as high school began, Roberta sat beside a girl named Anita at the freshman assembly. When some boys cruelly mocked Anita’s facial scars, Roberta immediately stood up for her: “Don’t talk to my friend like that, or you’ll regret it.” The boys knew Roberta meant business and backed off.
That moment marked the beginning of a deep friendship. Anita eventually became the first person Roberta ever told about Susie. Their bond grew strong, and though life has since taken them to opposite sides of the world, they’ve stayed connected online. Anita remains grateful for their friendship, and Roberta still thinks of Susie every single day.
The Writings of Felina Silver 
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