Most fifth-graders spend their afternoons practicing baseball, taking piano lessons or… Most fifth-graders spend their afternoons practicing baseball, taking piano lessons or watching movies while eating an afternoon snack. Not me. In the fifth grade, I would come home from school and retreat to my room, where I would boot up my dinosaur of an Apple computer and take to the Web for hours on end.

I know, I know. The Internet — the place where 10-year-olds are susceptible to perverts and porn. The Internet — I could have been stalked, kidnapped and left out in a deserted field somewhere! You are probably wondering what my parents were thinking, letting their daughter peruse the Internet unsupervised. Hell, I wonder that myself.

Nevertheless, you’d be surprised to find out the sources of entertainment a kid can find on the Internet. Primarily, I would browse Web sites created by other angst-ridden, pre-teen girls with no friends, just like myself. In doing so, I stumbled upon Steph, an 11-year-old from Wisconsin who got me obsessed with New York City and the Green Bay Packers and who taught me many things about online chatting and — cue cheesy Randy Newman song — the meaning of true, lasting friendship.

My first interaction with Steph occurred when I e-mailed her about a font I had fallen in love with on her Web site. It was big, bold and covered in flowers. She replied to my e-mail quickly and even attached the font itself with her response. Shortly after, Steph and I began talking on ICQ (the chat client of the late ’90s).

Steph and I soon realized that we had much in common, and she became the best friend I never thought I would find, even living in a city as big as Pittsburgh. We both shared a love for HTML, the Barenaked Ladies and monkeys. We even began to influence each other creatively. Together, we wrote short stories about quirky fictional characters that were part of a group we called the “Magic Penguin Inner Circle.”

My online correspondence with Steph persisted for around two and a half years. Finally, the summer after my seventh-grade year, my mom gave me permission to go to Wisconsin and visit Steph. Our parents talked on the phone and made arrangements. I would fly to Wisconsin (with an escort to ensure my safety, of course). Once there, I would stay at Steph’s house. We would be visiting the Mall of America.

Steph ended up being a 53-year-old named John. She had no hair. She had a large, protruding gut. This is how I got here. This is where the story ends.

OK, not really. My visit to Wisconsin ended up being absolutely amazing. Steph was, indeed, a 13-year-old soon-to-be eighth-grader. She and I got along as well in person as we had on the Internet, if not even better. I could not help but question the unfairness of why I had to leave Wisconsin and my best friend so soon.

Time has changed a lot of things, including my friendship with Steph. Throughout high school, my communication with Steph began to dwindle. Sure, we would still talk online, but month by month, our conversations would begin to fall a little bit flatter. Our smiley faces would be few and far between. Sometimes, we didn’t even punctuate our sentences.

I feel guilty about this, like I should have never let my life be taken over by a driver’s license, a prom dress and an illuminated Friday night football field. I feel guilty for falling into the trap of high school, for losing that creative, energetic spark of myself that fueled my friendship with Steph.

But you know what? I spoke with Steph on the phone the other day. She is coming to Pittsburgh for her spring break. I couldn’t be happier.

Claire Donato is a child of the Internet. E-mail her at [email protected], and she will come and visit you.