Paper Flowers (Pretty Plastic People) ★

bonus 05

Slowly, Liam's and my afternoon at the Cold Front becomes more and more of a distant memory.  At first it's something I look back on in the short-term, like it happened just yesterday or only last week.  Then prom comes.  College decision day.  The last day of classes.  AP exams.

I cling to every moment I have, but that doesn't stop time from slipping away.  I count down the weeks by Liam's Monday night parties.  All too soon, the last one is over, and then there are only four days left until graduation.

It isn't right, that something that has become such an integral part of myself is coming to an end so soon.  But there's nothing I can do about it.  I spend the next few days practicing my valedictorian speech and spending every waking moment with my friends—and some sleeping ones, too.

Friday rolls around, and before I know it my grade is lining up in our graduation caps and gowns.  There are too many of us, all a sea of navy and tassels and honor cords, and I squint to try and pick out my friends.

Allison stands in front of me, rocking back and forth on her wedges.  She manages to make even her cap look good, accenting her curled blonde hair as she plays with her tassel against the tip of her fingers.  After a few seconds, she turns around to face me and says, "Life is crazy.  Just a few different choices and I'd be standing in a totally different part of line, graduating as a Cunningham."

"I'm glad you're here."  It helps to have someone close nearby, especially at such an overwhelming time.  My hands are moving without my permission, adjusting and readjusting and counting my honor cords.  One two three four five six.  Over and over.

"Are you nervous about your speech?" she asks.

"Of course I am.  Aren't you?"

Neither Allison nor I have shared our speeches with the other.  It made me feel uncomfortable to talk about it at all with her, since I beat her out by a breath for valedictorian, but she always brings up the topic with ease.  Even as I watch her for any sign of disappointment, she grins and says, "Not nervous at all.  I live for speaking in front of people.  It's gonna be great."

She should be valedictorian.  A few different choices, and the roles would be reversed.  It's funny how much life can change after just one decision.  If she hadn't found out about her adoption, if she hadn't gotten involved with Taylor—she probably wouldn't have ever lost her focus, and she'd be at the top of the class instead of me.

I want to go find my other friends, to hold them close and ask them if they're as nervous as me.  A part of me wants to cry.  It's the last time we'll be together, the last time we'll stand in the hallways at Aquino High.  Maybe I'm overly sentimental, but it's a powerful moment.

Mr. Denham gathers us all together.  He's talking, but I don't listen.  Instead I let my eyes shift from side to side, looking around at my classmates.  We've been through so much together.  It's all ending today.

Our class president stands on a stool and yells at us, pumping us up.  I jump and cheer just like everyone else, holding my cap with one hand so it stays in place.  Then he hops down, and we clap, and just like that we're organizing back into our rows and beginning to walk.

Allison is right beside me, and she reaches out her hand to squeeze mine.  I wouldn't want to walk out with anyone else.

Our graduation is held outside, in the giant lawn at the back of our school.  It's sunny, but my cap provides me shade and I don't squint.  I realize now that my hands aren't shaking anymore, either.  I'm just grinning from ear to ear, still in disbelief that I actually made it intact.

The first part of graduation is a blur.  We file up to the stage in organized rows, sitting down in harmony.  Mr. Denham speaks, and then a few people offer words of advice.  Allison stands and delivers her salutatorian address, her voice confident and projecting to the very back row of chairs.  When she's finished, she walks back to her seat with a trademark flip of her blonde hair and sits gracefully beside me.