Second Chances

Chapter 12: Moving Forward

I'M BACK, MES AMIES. I am so sorry for being gone for so long. My work has been out of control and I have so much of it. I'll catch up and then write a bunch more next week (which is a break for me). This is a bit of a filler chapter, but I promise that Chapter 13 is where things are at. It's gonna be worth the wait, I promise. Enjoy!

Warning: Google Translate French

Much Love, Krissy

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Graduation Day (Jfc FINALLY):

This is it. The time has come. High school is over! Tonight we graduate, and then we party! Alright, maybe not party, but we'll celebrate. My mother is taking me and John to dinner, and then she said there was a surprise for us. I'm excited. I adjust the dress I'm wearing underneath my graduation robe and smile at myself in the mirror by the door.

"Anastasia, mon coeur (my heart), where is John? We need to leave in a few minutes," my mother says. I turn around and look at her, shrugging.

"I'll check our room," I say. She nods, setting Nicolette down on the ground and leaning over to put her shoes on for her. I go back upstairs and look in my room. He's sitting on the bed with his back toward me. I take a single step before I watch his shoulders jerk slightly and realize he's crying.

"Mon tendre (My sweet)?" I ask softly. He sniffles loudly and tries to wipe his face before I can see.

"I'm ready," he says, voice soft. I walk over to the bed and sit down next to him, not looking toward him. Clearly he doesn't want me to see him cry again, so I reach over and take his hand.

"Est-ce à propos de ton père (Is this about your father)?" I ask softly. I can see his head move in a nod out of the corner of my eye. I sigh and give his hand a small squeeze.

"I'm sorry," I say. He looks at me.

"For what?" he asks. I shrug and look at him.

"For your own father not being able to accept who you are," I say. He squeezes my hand tightly, looking at that instead.

"It isn't your fault," he says softly, before smiling slightly, "and at least I have you, your mom, and Nicolette." I smile softly and nod.

"Of course. You'll always have us. And your mom and siblings," I say. He looks up at me and nods, giving my hand another squeeze.

"Always?" he asks. I lean against him a little and squeeze his hand.

"Always," I say. He puts his head on top of mine, just briefly, then stands up.

"Let's go graduate."

"Anastasia Reama." Our principal announces my name, and the crowd begins to clap. He lists my achievements and future plans as I cross the stage, and he hands me my awards, scholarships and graduation certificate. This is it. This is my freedom. My future. I look out across the applauding crowd, seeing John, his mother and siblings, and my own mother, all beaming at me. I can see pride and love glowing in their eyes and smiles. I'm going to do something amazing with my future. I shake our principal's hand and smile. A camera flashes somewhere, and then I walk off the stage, returning to my seat.

My mother is crying tears of joy. She's been hugging me for a good solid thirty seconds, and I haven't the heart to ask her to let go.

"Je suis si fier de toi, ma chère (I am so proud of you, my dear)!" she cries. I hold onto her tightly and smile.