When my dad told me to take my car for a spin, what he really meant was, "Go show your best friend what your cool dad got you for your birthday!" 

Granted, Danny was technically my only friend. My best friend. He was this witty, outspoken, lanky kid who looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ magazine. I was pretty sure he had a lifetime supply of hair gel, brown boots, flannels, and multi-colored sweaters stashed somewhere in his closet. The guy took fashion very seriously. He was never one to be shy or discreet about the way he felt towards a certain shirt or hairstyle, and some days he never seemed to shut up. During school hours one could usually find Danny fixing his hair in the nearest reflective surface, drooling over anything with legs or stuffing his face with grotesque cafeteria food. He was pretty remarkable.

The weird thing is, I don't remember a specific time or place I met Danny. He just kind of showed up out of nowhere. I just assumed I'd known him my whole life since that's what it felt like. But if you asked him about us and our friendship, he'd say I was his first friend when he moved to Santa Barbara from Long Island. My parents would never bat an eye when I'd bring Danny over to our house, considering he was a boy. In fact, they had practically taken Danny in as a second child, partially because I'd always wanted a sibling and partially because the poor kid's parents were never around. That never actually seemed to bother him, now that I think about it.

I even protected Danny like a sibling would. When we were younger, there were always instances where I'd have to stick up for Danny, like the time we went on a field trip to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art in the second grade. The she-devil in designer children's clothing, formally known as Stacy Knox, wouldn't stop making fun of Danny for his funny limp and crutches. The girl was four feet and and two inches of pure evil. I was convinced Stacy Knox was a witch disguised as a elementary school child.

"What a freak," she'd sneer, looking over to her coven of evil friends for support. "It's no wonder Orion's only friend is a cripple. No one wants to be friends with a loser like her."

I vividly remembered being mad at her for teasing him so mercilessly; it's not like he could actually help it. Danny had some sort of weird muscular disease that confined him to a wheelchair at a young age but by some miracle or something, he could walk again—partially, but he could walk. The anger I felt was unlike anything I'd ever experienced that day. There was this weird tingling sensation in the tips of my fingertips, and every hair of my body stood up straight. I even blacked out a little bit. Luckily, Danny convinced me not to go after her, for the sake of not ruining the three days I had gone without a detention. That didn't last very long anyway. I'd always managed to somehow get into trouble. It was in my nature.

"Whoa. You got a car?" Danny gawked at my birthday present. "Your very own car?"

"I know right! They won't let me have a phone, but they got me a car. How crazy is that?"

Danny chewed his bottom lip nervously. "Yeah, but you know phones are bad for the environment...and I hear they cause cancer too. Plus, a car is way cooler than some dumb old phone."

I rolled my eyes, avoiding Danny's usual 'save the environment' speech. "I think you've been watching way too much Oprah, Dan. You up for some tacos?"

Danny's eyes lit up brighter than fireworks on the Fourth of July. "From Taco Hut?"

"Obviously," I grinned as my best friend got in the passenger seat, and together we headed straight for the beach.

Four tacos and three refills of pink lemonade later I collapsed on the scorching sand beneath me, completely missing the towel I had laid out in preparation for my post-taco haze.

"Man, what a day." I sighed.

"Your folks pull out all the stops again?" Danny propped his body up on one elbow, surprisingly maintaining his balance despite of his leg condition. That was weird.

"They woke me up with a double chocolate cake, man. Every year it's the same old routine. They love it. But I don't know..."

I paused, not knowing if I wanted to speak my mind. Danny had heard this speech a million times before, but each year the hole inside my heart became wider and wider. As crazy as it sounded, I always had a strange, unsettling feeling that I didn't belong. Not at school, not in my house...not anywhere. This wasn't just a random, angsty-teen quarter life crisis. I'd had this feeling ever since I was a little girl. Something always felt off.

"Is it weird that sometimes... I feel like I'm adopted, or switched at birth, or something. It's like I'm missing something. Like there's this huge puzzle piece that I need in order to feel whole, but I just can't find it no matter how hard I try."

Danny tensed up, avoiding my gaze. "Come on, Orion. Not this again. Why do you always do this to yourself?"

It wasn't a crazy idea, you know, the adoption thing. My parents and I had absolutely nothing in common; physically or mentally.

My mother had glistening light emerald eyes that could see right through you in a millisecond. Her ivory skin looked like porcelain in contrast to her pin straight red hair. There was a certain aura and energy surrounding my mother. She could light up a room just by walking in. My mom looked younger than she really was, with a silver nose ring sticking out of her petite nose and a couple hidden tattoos here and there, but I guess that's the kind of edgy look artists go for now. Her sense of humor was absolutely incredible; she was the easiest person to talk to aside from Danny, and she gave great advice.

She had a studio about five minutes from our home, with an art gallery she and my dad ran together on weekends. It kept them occupied and I'd grown used to being around pretentious art snobs and art critics constantly trying to pick apart my mother's work. She didn't care much for them either. Hundreds of people from all over the world would travel far and wide just to see and buy Crystal Vera's famous art - and if she wasn't my mom, I probably would too. The vibrant, exuberant colors she used to paint landscapes and portraits seemed to bounce off the canvas and come alive right before your very eyes. I always found myself in a trance looking at the hundreds of paintings she'd completed, remembering the sweat on her brow and the clamminess of her hands as she'd stay up into the late hours of the night in order to complete a painting. Her hard work was worth it; her art was unlike anything I'd ever seen Van Gogh, Di Vinci or Kahlo do.

John Carter, my father, was your stereotypical hippy-dippy"cool" high school band teacher. If there was a class for actual rock bands, my dad would have been all over it. He played guitar, piano, bass, drums, keyboard, the saxophone, and even the bongos. The guy was a regular Mozart. He even had his own band that was touring across the country and everything, but then I was born and he quit to help out my mom. The rest is history I always felt guilty, though. Like I took a big part of his life from him. However, he always made it a point to remind me the band was temporary and he would've settled down anyway. Up until three years ago, he had a long mop of shaggy brown hair that he threatened to cut into a mullet, accompanied by a long, bushy, untamed beard. Mom took care of that, thankfully. Now he just had this modern slicked back hairdo and, what he called, a mediocre beard.

He was my favorite person in the world, if you couldn't tell, My dad looked at me like I was the only person that mattered to him. He looked at me as if I was so much more than a huge disappointment, or the person who stole his music career from him. He looked at me like I was golden, like I could do no wrong.

"No, listen! It's a solid argument! I look nothing like them! My hair is practically black, and I have blue eyes," I frantically motioned to my face. "Neither of my parents have blue eyes."

"Didn't you take biology? Dominant and recessive genes are real, you know. They've proven it and everything." Danny smirked, biting into his millionth taco.

"Maybe I'm adopted and they're waiting for me to turn eighteen so they can break the news. Or maybe I'm one of those kids who got switched at the hospital by a nurse. I've heard that's kind of common."

"Oh yeah, that's it," Danny laughed. "Why do both of your parents have different last names anyway?"

"When my mom married my dad her art career hadn't taken off yet. She thought Crystal Vera had a better ring to it. So that was that," I sighed, feeling my eyes get heavier and heavier by the minute. 

The waves were fighting for dominance against one another before violently thrashing on the sand below. The sound of children laughing and music playing soothed my troubled nerves, and for a moment I completely forgot where I was. My mind began to slowly fade in perfect sync to the sound of the salty sea breeze gently caressing my face.

"Oh no you don't," Danny hauled me back up to my feet.

"Danny! I was about to take the biggest nap of the year, what gives?" I studied his nervous expression; he was scratching his spiky bleach blonde hair underneath his usual staple white Nike baseball cap, just like he would before a big Spanish exam. Something was up.

"Alright, what's going on? Did my mom tell you about a surprise party?"

"No, I-"

"Oh my god they totally got me a second gift. Is it a puppy? Kitten? Guinea pig?"

"Kind of, but no-"

"Oh my God," I gasped, cupping my mouth with my hands. "It's a jet ski, isn't it? She knows I'm scared of water and-"

"Orion, shut up for a second, will you?" Danny covered my blabbering lips with his hand. "Jeez, your mom wasn't kidding when she said you couldn't be surprised. Happy birthday." Danny cut me off and gestured towards a simple white box adorned with a black bow in the palm of his hand. I could've sworn that wasn't there a minute ago.

"Danny...what? We said no birthday presents, like... ever!" It was the first and only present he had ever given me, and I'd known Danny forever. We had a strict no gift policy to take the pressure off of Christmas and birthdays; why was he doing this now?

He scratched the back of his head nervously and looked down at his feet. I'd never seen the guy at a loss for words.

"There's really no need to thank me." His face was slowly turning a deep shade of crimson.

"Look, there's no way I'm taking it." I shoved the box back at him, too shy to take the gift.

"Take it," he tried to place the box back in my hands.

"No!"

"Don't you want to know what's inside," he teased, knowing I couldn't resist his temptations.

Curiosity killed the cat. I took the box from him carefully, being sure not to ruin it. My hands shook while I opened its lid slowly.

All of the breath I had inside of my lungs was knocked out in a second. Staring back at me was a beautiful teardrop shaped opal necklace with elaborate and almost ancient silver detailing lining the outer rim of the iridescent rock. I was too scared to even touch it, let alone wear the necklace.

There was no way Danny picked this up at the ninety nine cents store.

"Danny...where did you even find this?"

"Don't worry about it," he beamed. "You need help putting that on?"

I nodded and beamed in pure delight at my new piece of jewelry. I wasn't one to be excited about accessories or clothes...I mean, this is coming from the girl who leaves the house in the same flannel, bathing suit and beat up sneakers every day but this was different. This meant something to me. It wasn't just some piece of jewelry from a retail store. Something about the necklace seemed...special.

Danny carefully moved my hair to the side as he placed the silver necklace around my neck. The opal stone sat perfectly in between the dip of my collarbones; the necklace was so accurate and fitting it almost freaked me out a little.

"It's like it was made for me," I sighed, admiring the way the white stone glittered and changed colors before my eyes. Pink, to baby blue, to a glittering yellow, purple, orange, and back again.

"It looks great, Ri," Danny smiled, admiring the rock's natural beauty.

We spent the rest of our day on the beach, lying on the warm sand and soaking up the sun's rays. The sky above us was a clear cerulean blue, free of any clouds, and the sea breeze gently caressed my face. Santa Barbara was almost smiling down on me. Life was good.