The Monster Under the Bed || Kickthestickz

We Did It

For the first time in my whole school life, assembly is enjoyable. Instead of in alphabetical order of surnames students have been allowed to sit with friends. Calum, Ruben, Pj and I all sit in a line, three-quarters of the way from the front of the hall. Nearly every teacher is present lining the walls and perching themselves on the front of the stage. Mr Greene stands at the front looking over the mass of teens with an exhausted yet proud look on his face. Everyone is silent.

"I know that a lot of you will think this to be the best day of your life. No more work, no more teachers, no more stuffy classrooms, and no more school. But before you walk these corridors for the final time and say your goodbyes to the classmates you will most likely not even recognise in 15 years' time, I want you to think. Think of what you looked like when you first arrived on the doorstep of this school. With your blazers too big and your suitcases filled more with sweets than with actual necessary clothing. And then look at how you are now. You have all grown. You have all, believe it or not, matured. And most importantly, Tommy Davis has finally cut his ridiculous long hair."

The hall burst out in a chorus of laughs and cheers.

"In these past years I have thoroughly enjoyed being your head master. I'm sure that Dougie Kidwell will make it with his band in the music industry and throw me a ticket when you do, fine Sir. I'm also sure that Lincoln Peterson will be writing for the local paper in a desperate attempt to get that lovely young girl from the school across the road to notice him. I believe in you, Link.

"Many things have also come as a shock for us as I am sure you are all aware. Be it Mrs Lovik's fantastic news on her marriage; congratulations, Martha. Or Mr Ruben Maier with his and Mr Clifford's new love story. But nothing is more shocking to me than the fact that we survived! You did it. You made it through high school. And only Daniel Howell got permanently excluded, leaving that ridiculous yet now admittedly legendary mural on the B Block staircase.

"I hope to see you all one final time on results day in the summer. Now I will leave you with this heart-warming video made by the graphics students and say one last thing. Thank you, year 13. You have truly been a pleasure to teach."

The hall bursts into an eruption of cheers and applause as Mr Greene looked proudly over the students of our year group, signalled a single wave of farewell and moved off the side of the stage. Music fills the room as a video plays on the projector full of old photos of everyone in the class. I feel Pj's slender fingers on my waist and let him pull me gently on to his lap. Soft puffs of his breath tickle my neck and ears as he watches the video. We chuckle together at the hideous photos of our classmates when they were younger and cheer raucously at the baby photos of one another.

As the video ends the entire year stand up from their chairs and move to stack them at the sides of the rooms. Then, one by one we file nervously from the hall doors and into the outside world.

*

Having until 8 o'clock that evening until my mum comes to collect us both, Pj and I meander over to the tree outside our room. The sun is simply too hot to go inside and I feel the rays burning into my skin through the thin, white material of my school shirt. Pj holds both mine and his own St. Greene's blazers in his free hand. As we reach the base of the tree I throw myself to the ground and stretch my legs out on the grass in front of me. "It seems strange, doesn't it?" Pj begins. "That our first year here seems so long ago but still as if it were yesterday?" I don't answer to him; just look deep into his eyes. Little specks of yellow sparkle where the sun hits them. They look almost transparent.

Closing my eyes I rest my head back on the thick trunk of the tree and take a breath. The smell of Pj's deodorant and freshly cut grass hits my senses and I try to take in as much of it as possible. "I got in to University," I mutter, the words barely audible over the slight rustle of the leaves in the hot summer breeze. "Cambridge."