The final week of school flew by in a whirlwind of exams and oral presentations. My painting received an A, helping me pass my art class, but the chances of passing some of my other subjects was iffy. With Emma and Cal’s help, I studied every second that I wasn’t in class. I still kept my fingers crossed, toes too.
I had finally decided what I wanted to do with my life after high school. But first I had to graduate. Flunking out and having to repeat the school year had joined the other nightmare scenarios that plagued my sleepless nights. Repeating senior year may not have been as life threatening as abduction by jocks or revenge by witches, but I was still terrified.
On Friday, the list of passing seniors was posted.
I passed.
I lifted my hands above my head and hooted, doing a victory dance. My skirts twirled as I spun all the way to my locker.
“Hey,” I said, bumping into Emma.
“Are you alright?” she asked. “You don’t look so good.”
“I’m awesome,” I said, grinning. “Just dizzy.”
No more twirling for me. If I moved my head too fast, the hallway started to tilt, making my stomach go all twisty.
“I thought the paramedics said you were fine,” she said. Emma narrowed her eyes and looked me over. “No concussion.”
“Nope, I’m good,” I said. I leaned in closer, like I knew the world’s best secret. “Better than good. I’m totally freaking amazing.”
“Do you mean what I think you mean?” Emma said.
“I passed,” I said, bouncing on the toes of my boots. “You’re looking at a graduate of Wakefield High.”
“Squee!” we both squeeled.
We bumped knuckles and Emma pulled me into a hug. When Emma stepped back, she had a smug grin on her face.
“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything until I knew for sure you were graduating,” she said. “But...I got class valedictorian.”
“That is so awesome,” I said. “There are some scary smart people in our class. You rock!”
I started jumping up and down, and twirling. Didn’t I decide not to do that again? I was instantly dizzy, but didn’t care. I was too freaking happy.
“I did have a lot of competition,” she said.
Emma tossed her head, flipping her hair over one shoulder. She was trying to look poised, like a true class leader, but a flush crept across her cheeks and I knew she was pleased with herself.
Me? I just kept dancing.
*****
It was the last day of school for seniors and the parking lot was filled with smiling faces. Speakers were blaring and someone had written “skool sux” with white chalk on the pavement. It was almost festive, but we didn’t stick around to goggle at our classmate’s antics.
We had a much more somber task to attend to.
Emma maneuvered her car past the chaos of the school parking lot and let out a sigh of relief. Classes were over. We just had one more assignment before we were official graduates. Tomorrow we would dress in ridiculously unflattering caps and gowns and accept our diplomas.
Walking across the stage in front of the entire student body? Yeah, I wasn’t too thrilled about that. But if it meant freedom from Wakefield High, and the beginning of my dreams for the future, I’d do it. Plus, who cares if I have to wear a bright red muumuu? It’s all about the accessories.
I was trying to decide if I wanted to go with a dramatic lace collar or spiky metal studs, when Emma cleared her throat. Her gaze flicked over at me, then back to the road.
“I’m really glad you’re graduating with us,” she said.
She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.
“But?” I asked. When someone sighed like that, there is always a “but.”
“I’m still worried about you,” she said. “I know the past few months have been hard, ever since the football team stuck you in that closet. At first we weren’t talking, and then I didn’t want to pressure you, but…have you thought about your future?”
When she mentioned the football team, I felt like someone had slapped me in the face. I reached up to touch my cheek, but stopped. School was over. They couldn’t hurt me anymore.
And Emma had a point. Until last week, I didn’t have any plans for the future. Emma, Gordy, and Katie were all going off to college and Cal had his pack duties to attend to. But I hadn’t even mentioned anything that I’d like to do once we graduated.
We had been so busy that I hadn’t had a chance to talk to her about my plans. I guess too, I felt a bit superstitious about the whole thing. I was going to wait until I had something more concrete to show her, like a stack of paintings or a stall in the flea market with my name on it. Oh well, no time like the present.
“I’m going to pursue my art,” I said. I looked down at my hands and picked at the flaking nail polish. I’d have to redo them before graduation tomorrow. “I may get a stall at the flea market, at least at first.”
I felt foolish saying it out loud to Emma. It had sounded like such a great idea when I told Cal. But compared to Emma’s plans, my dreams seemed childish. What was I thinking?
“Wow, that’s a fantastic idea,” she said. “Have you considered art school?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe, in the future. Right now I want to work on my paintings and make a go of it. I figure if I paint ghost auras, my art will be unique. And Cal said he’d help me get the stall set up.”
“You are definitely one of a kind,” she said teasingly. “Seriously though, I think it’s a great idea. I’m even a little bit jealous.”
“Jealous?” I asked. “No way.”
“Really,” she said. “I’m following my dream to go to veterinary school, but I can’t follow my heart until I come home as a licensed vet. I know you’re not crazy about Simon, but it’s hard knowing we can’t really be together until then. Part of me wishes I didn’t have to go, that I could stay here with Simon. So if you open your art stall here in Wakefield, you have both Calvin and your art now. I have to wait.”
“Oh,” I said. “That sucks.”
I hadn’t really thought about it. I never questioned Emma leaving and going away to college. I’d miss her, but veterinary school was her dream. But if she really loved Simon, then he was part of her dreams now too. If I had to choose between something I loved and Calvin, I’d go crazy.
“Look on the bright side,” she said. Emma let out a shaky laugh. “At least we have a future.”
Emma pulled her car into a parking spot near the Wakefield Park front gates. Bouquets and wreaths of flowers rested against the stone pillars, where people had set up a memorial to Rose Peterson.
I felt suddenly guilty. Here I was worrying and complaining about our future plans when we were here to say goodbye to Rose, who didn’t have a future anymore. She wouldn’t be making plans for school or meeting a nice guy.
She was dead.