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Springtime. I’ve always loved the spring. And today’s going to be perfect. Time to get myself up and out of bed.
Mom gives her normal rat-a-tat-tat on my bedroom door. I push the covers off and call out, “Come in.”
She’s full of smiles. Steps over and kisses me on the cheek. “How’s my little graduating senior?” she asks in a melodic voice. Usually she’s way too cheerful in the morning. It annoys me when she comes in singing songs or making jokes. But not today.
Today, I’m even more of a morning lark than she is.
It’s the senior trip today. You have no idea how much begging Mom had to do to convince Dad to let me go. “It’s just a reason to skip school and party,” he grumbled.
Which is when Mom stepped in and offered the family cabin. It wasn’t that far from the campsite where seniors historically spent the weekend before graduation. Besides, everyone in my senior class knows Mom. She’d been the school librarian at the middle school before she started subbing at the high school. Sports jocks, band geeks, computer nerds — at one point she’s taught in each and every one of their classes.
And everyone loves her.
“Your mom’s like the only adult in the entire world I can trust not to totally ruin our camping trip,” Kelsie told me when I asked her what she thought of the plan. “And your cabin is the best. I wish my family was loaded like yours. Benefits of having a mob boss as your dad.” We laughed at the little inside joke, and that’s how it was settled.
I still can’t believe I’ll get to spend three full days with my friends. Not everyone from our class is coming. Some of the other cliques organized their own getaways. Senior trips are always like that. It’s not an actual school-sponsored event. And I guess Kelsie’s right when she tells me how lucky I am to have a mom like mine because it doesn’t even weird me out to think about her coming with us. Like I said, everyone at the school already knows her. She’ll just read her spy novels the whole time anyway, so it’s not like she’s going to make things awkward or get in our way.
This will be the first time I’ve spent the night with Chris. Oh my gosh, I had no idea how bad that would sound. No, it’s not going to be like that. First of all, my parents would kill me if they found out Chris and I were sleeping together. And Chris is really serious about being a Christian, even though he can’t let his dad know or he’d get beat up even more than normal. I actually think that’s part of the reason why Chris became a Christian in the first place, just because church gave him someplace to go that wasn’t home. It was actually at youth group where we started hanging out more, and we’ve been together now for a little over three years, so it’s pretty serious. But we’re still gonna wait to do anything like that, if you know what I mean.
But oh my gosh, I’m so excited for this weekend to start! Let’s see, I packed my bags, I’ve got my bug spray. What else do I need? I guess I’m lucky because if I do forget something, it’s not like I can’t find it at my own cabin, right?
Chris hasn’t ever been there before. I hope he feels comfortable. He’d never say so, but sometimes I worry it makes him feel bad when he sees how much stuff my family has. His mom’s been out of the picture for a while, and his dad isn’t that good with handling the money he manages to earn. Mom tells me all the time not to make Chris think I feel sorry for him. Last summer, when she found out I was paying for our snacks and things whenever Chris and I went out together, she talked Dad into hiring him to do some landscaping. Said that it would make Chris feel better if he didn’t think he was relying on our charity. I guess maybe some people are sensitive about that kind of thing, but Chris and I haven’t ever talked about it directly. He did like working at our house last summer, and I’m glad he’ll be doing it again this year.
I still can’t believe we’re almost graduating! And if you want to know a big, deep secret, I’m a little nervous about this camping trip. Because next fall Chris’s staying in Massachusetts and taking classes at the community college, and I’m off to New York, and we’ve never really sat down to talk about what that’s going to mean for us. I don’t want to be the one to bring it up. I know Chris has enough on his mind already. Did I tell you about his half-sister? Her mom just dropped her off with Chris’s dad last year, and so Chris has been basically raising her ever since. That’s part of the reason why he wants to stay in the area, I think, to help take care of Gabriella. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t trust Mr. Gomez to look after a hamster, much less a little girl.
Well, Mom’s in the kitchen now, still singing. I wonder what’s for breakfast. Chris will be here in about half an hour, then Mom will drive us over to the cabin. The rest of the group will meet us in the afternoon. We’re leaving early so we can do a little grocery shopping once we get there, make sure there’s enough food. Mom’s pretty strict about no drinking (which is another reason we have a smaller group than we might have), but that’s fine by us. Most of Chris’s and my crowd isn’t into that kind of stuff anyway. And Dad would totally flip if he thought there was going to be anything like that going on.
“You look just like a summer sunflower,” Mom tells me when I come out of my room. It’s sweet of her to say but kind of silly seeing as how I’m just wearing some plain old cutoff shorts and a yellow striped shirt. She comes over and messes with the clip in my hair, pulling some runaway strands away from my face. Then she gives me a kiss. “Want some coffee with breakfast?” she asks, but I tell her no thanks.
“Dad already at work?” I ask, and she tells me he is. I shouldn’t feel surprised. Dad’s never here when I get up in the morning. But for some reason I was hoping that today might be different.
Mom must sense the hint of a gloomy mood, and she gives me another huge hug. “I still can’t believe you’re graduating!” Sometimes, I think she’s more excited about me finishing high school than I am. I mean, the way she’s going at it, you’d think I’d already discovered the cure for cancer.
We sit down at the table. Mom’s made a big breakfast this morning, way more than the two of us could possibly eat. I know why she’s done it too, because then when Chris comes by, she can tell him we have extra. He’ll never admit when he’s hungry or if they’re out of food in his house. Mom’s gotten into the habit of buying a few extra boxes of snacks from the clearance shelves. It’s not the kind of stuff our family ever eats, so she’ll tell Chris something like, “You know what? I was cleaning out the back of the pantry and found some things that are about to go bad. Want to take them home?” And he always does. A few times, Mom has tried to figure out what kind of snacks Gabriella likes the most, and she’ll always buy a couple extra boxes if she comes across them.
“So, are you going to miss high school?” Mom asks.
I shrug. “It’ll be different.”
“You’re going to love New York,” she gushes, and I know she’s right. One other cool thing is that Kelsie’s been accepted to Barnard, so we’ll be practically neighbors. Mom’s warned me plenty of times that even though Kelsie and I have been best friends forever, that doesn’t mean we’ll stay close in college, but I know we will. That’s just the kind of friendship we have.
Mom stares at me picking at my fruit salad. “What’s wrong? Is the watermelon too mushy? I was a little worried when I cut it up.”
I give her a smile. She knows I’m not thinking about the fruit, and she knows that I know.
She reaches over and puts her hand on my knee. “This is going to be a special weekend for you and Chris, isn’t it?”
I spear a slice of kiwi and stare at my fork.
“You’re a lucky girl,” Mom tells me. “That boy loves you very much. I must have taught you how to pick well.”
We chuckle, our shared laugh breaking a little bit of the tension I’m feeling at the thought of this senior trip and everything it means. The last time we’ll be together like this, me and all my friends ... As much as I want to fight it, I know Mom’s right. Graduation means everything’s going to change. Kelsie and I will still be best friends, but it’s not like we’re going to be able to schedule all of our classes together and eat lunch at the same table and spend every free minute together. And Chris ...
The doorbell rings. He’s here early. Mom eyes my plate. “Want me to let him in?”
I jump up from my chair. “No, I got it.”
I forget how many times Mom and I both have told Chris he can just walk in and make himself at home, but I actually think it’s adorable how he still uses the doorbell and stands patiently on the porch.
I open the door. He’s wearing his Vegas shirt. Chris and I have been fans of the band since Mom got us tickets to their concert last fall.
“Come in,” Mom says, then reminds Chris he doesn’t have to use the bell. It’s a conversation they go through every time he comes over. Some things never change. At least I hope they’ll never change.
I give Chris a quick hug. He’s always shy to be affectionate with me around my parents. If my dad were here, I’d totally get it, but I wish Chris would learn to be a little more comfortable with Mom. In a way though, it just makes him that much more endearing. It’s not like he has to be nervous or reserved around Mom either. She absolutely adores him. Says he reminds her of Captain America, all polite and respectful. It makes me happy to know she likes him so much.
I take his hand and give it a squeeze. “Want some breakfast?” I ask. “We just sat down.”
It takes less coaxing than usual to get Chris to eat, and he lets Mom pile up his plate without protesting. Good old Chris.
“You two ready for a great weekend or what?” Mom asks, and Chris and I glance at each other. Does he look nervous? Is he wondering the same thing I am?
Is this weekend going to be the beginning of a new stage in our relationship?
Or will it be a bittersweet ending to the best years of our lives?