I can't help but smile at the lyrics in her letter. She misses me.\n\nIn fifth grade, my teacher set us up with pen pals from a different school. Thinking I was a girl, with a name like Misha, the other teacher paired me up with her student, Ryen. My teacher, believing Ryen was a boy like me, agreed.\n\nIt didn't take long for us to figure out the mistake. And in no time at all, we were arguing about everything. The best take-out pizza. Android vs. iPhone. Whether or not Eminem is the greatest rapper ever...\n\nAnd that was the start. For the next seven years, it was us.\n\nHer letters are always on black paper with silver writing. Sometimes there's one a week or three in a day, but I need them. She's the only one who keeps me on track, talks me down, and accepts everything I am.\n\nWe only had three rules. No social media, no phone numbers, no pictures. We had a good thing going. Why ruin it?\n\nUntil I run across a photo of a girl online. Name's Ryen, loves Gallo's pizza, and worships her iPhone. What are the chances?\n\nF*ck it. I need to meet her.\n\nI just don't expect to hate what I find.\n\n--------\n\nHe hasn't written in three months. Something's wrong. Did he die? Get arrested? Knowing Misha, neither would be a stretch.\n\nWithout him around, I'm going crazy. I need to know someone is listening. It's my own fault. I should've gotten his phone number or picture or something.\n\nHe could be gone forever.\n\nOr right under my nose, and I wouldn't even know it.