The Ballerina & The Devil

Seventy. I'll See You Later Part 2

A/N: The song in the media box is Superheroes by The Script, which perfectly sums up this story in my personal opinion.

Maybe one day we'll find
that place where you and I
could be together, and we'll
catch our dreams within the
waves of change. So smile
for me one last time and
believe that we'll meet again.
until then, I'll be missing
you.

- R.M. Drake

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My heels clicked against the pavement in rhythm as I followed the class mates ahead of me and led the ones behind me to the stadium where we would be receiving our diplomas. The butterflies in my stomach were swarming at such a pace I didn't doubt a tiny tornado was going on inside of me.

I wasn't exactly nervous. If anything, I was bursting with excitement. High School graduation had always been one of those far off goals. Something I knew would eventually get around to happening, but despite how close I got to it as the years went by it still managed to seem like it popped up out of nowhere.

Deacon, who was dressed in a blue gown just as the rest of the boys were, stopped short, causing me to crash into him and out of my thoughts. I smacked his back as he laughed and continued walking.

"You're such a child," I snapped, trying to sound irritated but the effect was lost thanks to the smile on my face. "Try to act your age."

"And where is the fun in that?" He glanced over at me, his eyes lighting up. "Hey, you want a ride?"

"What?" I wrinkled my eyebrows in confusion.

"A ride. Get on my back."

"No! Are you crazy? This is not the time nor the place."

"Oh, come on-"

"Do you like getting in trouble? Are you just itching to squeeze in one last stunt in before we leave this place?"

He grinned. "Yes. Come on, what are they going to do? Suspend us?"

I hesitated, glancing around at our peers and the teachers who were guiding us to the the football field. I smiled a little and then nodded.

"Okay," I hiked up my white gown and jumped on his back when he paused momentarily.

There were a few giggles around from the students and some eye rolls from the teachers. None of which seemed keen on doing anything about the scene displayed before them. That was until the bitchy art teacher I had in the ninth grade stormed up, looking irritated.

"Mr. and Miss Lawson," she said in her shrill voice. "I understand the excitement, as you are graduating today, but this kind of behavior is incredibly inappropriate and a mockery to our school."

"I'm sorry Ms. Lacey," Deacon said solemnly. "It would appear that my dear sister sprained her ankle, damn heels, and I just couldn't allow her to continue to walk on it. You see, she's a dancer. Even got into Juilliard, yes the Juilliard, and her feet are very important. I would say they're the most important feet among the class of 2016, and seeing as we not only share the same blood, but shared the womb for nine months, it's only right that I carry her the rest of the way. I'm not harming anyone, and...we must ask ourselves, what would Jesus do?"

I buried my face in his shoulder to keep myself from laughing out loud at Deacon's sheer idiocy.

Ms. Lacey stared at us for a moment before walking ahead of us with a heavy sigh. "I can't wait to retire."