I remember as a boy, about eleven or twelve, my best friend was another boy a couple of years younger than me. Evan and I were inseparable and shared an acquired thirst for adrenaline. We used to get into a lot trouble, you know, stuff boys did for fun. We would ride around on our skateboards and break windows, slash tires, light fires, steal, destroy and vandalize anything that was in our path. Any trouble you could imagine two young boys getting into, we did. We were fearless and brave and insane and it was wonderful. But we were also outcasts, we wanted nothing to do with the other kids, they didn’t understand. We were addicted to the adrenaline that flew through our bodies as we destroyed and stole things. The rush and thrill that consumed my body, as a twelve-year-old boy, was one of the most powerful feelings I had felt at the time. I loved it and would risk almost anything to feel it. That rush was what bonded us. We went everywhere together, to each others baseball games, our grandparents’ houses, our parents’ jobs and social functions, everywhere. We were loyal as brothers and we shared a secret. I lived for those afternoons and weekends we spent together and that childhood bond will link us forever. Even when we run into each other now, there is an understanding, an unspoken loyalty and respect for the rush that used to race through our bodies on those days we would sneak off together, laughing and screaming as we ran away, our hearts pounding, feeling invincible and daring someone to catch us.