i: Desolate.

Well. This was it. Graduation day. It came a lot faster than I thought it would. I don’t really think any of us were prepared for it, but especially not me.

 

As we waited in line for the seniors to be called to the football field, I glanced at the bleachers. They were completely filled; there must have been thousands of people there, all to see their student walk up to the stand and get a stupid piece of paper. I always thought ceremonies like this were pointless. Hell, I didn’t even want to walk, but I did it for my mom. She’s the only one who could make it.

 

“Attention all seni"” our principal announced timidly at the podium in the middle of the field, but was interrupted by cheering in the audience. “Seniors, please come to your assigned seats, please.”

 

We (all 175 of us; our town was pretty small) waddled to our seats in a single-file line. I found my seat pretty quickly. Luckily, it was right in between probably the two tallest people in my class, so in my small stature of five feet and an inch, I was pretty hidden. After everyone got into their seats, the principal and valedictorian made speeches about I don't even know what. I wasn’t paying attention, all I could really think about was how hot I was in the stupid cap and gown. Not “hot” as is “wow, I look good” but “hot” as in “holy s**t, I’m melting.” I swear I was sweating like a pig. Luckily the girls’ gowns were white so it wasn’t very noticeable.

 

Not much about the ceremony was interesting. Now that I look back on it, in the middle of all the bullshit, there was just one thing said that caught my attention. The valedictorian said something along the lines of “You all may think that our story’s over, but trust me, it’s just beginning.”

"It better be," I muttered to myself. I remember back then I was just a really lame kid, who hated everything and everyone. People usually say their high school years were the best in their lives. For me, it was the years after high school that were most influential.

After what seemed like forever and a half, the principal said, “Let’s now give a round of applause to our salutatorian with a weighted GPA of 5.8, Aimee Goldman! Please stand up Aimee!” I slowly stood up as the crowd politely applauded me. I didn’t expect a roaring applause, because no one really knew me at high school.

“You pronounced my name wrong,” I mumbled under my breath. It’s pronounced like Amy. My principal (as well as every f*****g person on the planet) pronounces it like “Aye-mee” as in “Aye, aye, Captain!”

We were called in alphabetical order to get our diplomas, which took a good hour. Then we threw the caps, and took pictures and all that nonsense. I was pretty spaced out the entire time, humming a simple melody. Then my mom drove me home and I went up to my room, and stayed there.

Now, I know there’s probably a load of questions you’re thinking, like, why don’t you have friends? Why did only your mom come to your graduation? And the one I get the most, how are you so smart?

Well, I’ve always been really smart. I took only AP and Honor classes, and still aced them. I don’t really think of myself as a nerd; I never actually tried for my grades. The material just came easily to me. To be completely honest, I never studied at all, and was always bored in class. Because of my high intelligence and my complete hatred of everything in life, a lot of people thought I was weird, thus I was left friendless. I even played soccer for all of high school, and still none of the girls talked to me unless it was absolutely necessary. So for my entire school career, I was known as the geeky, angry blonde girl on the soccer team.

Now, to explain why only my mom showed up to graduation. There used to be four of us in my little family, my parents, my big brother, Alecksander and me. (It’s pronounced Alexander. If you haven’t noticed, my parents liked common names with weird spelling.) My parents got divorced when I was thirteen, and I never really had a consistent relationship with my father.  Alecksander lived in Florida, and my mom and I lived in a tiny town in the middle of Pennsylvania. Therefore, there was only my mom. I love her, I really do, but she can be pushy at times. Since I’m smart naturally, she expected me to use my talents, and go to an Ivy League school and be the president of the world or something. I’d much rather use my other talents, and be a musician. However, I hadn’t told my mother this. I was scared of what she was going to say.

On the night of my graduation, I stayed up till 11 PM, as I do every Friday. Just like clockwork, my phone rang. It was Alecksander. I beamed as I answered the phone. “Hello?”

“HAPPY GRADUATION!” Alecksander shouted through the phone. He had obviously been drinking.

“Dang, Alecks, how many shots did you have?” I teased him. We’re always this jokey with each other. Despite the age gap (I was 18 at the time, he was 23) we were the best of friends. We talked about everything, but mostly our love for music.

“Only enough for the both of us!” He chuckled, and then hiccupped. “The guys and I are celebrating for you!” By ‘the guys’ he meant his band, Avenue Rebellion. He was the lead singer and guitarist. I heard an unfamiliar voice yell “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SISTER!” I giggled to myself.

“So, when are you coming down here?” Alecksander asked after more hiccups and shouts.

“Soon. Within the next couple days or so.”

“Does Mom know you’re staying here yet?” Hiccup.

“No, I was hoping you’d tell her. You know she likes you more anyway.”

“Well, yeah! Everyone loves me!” This was a very true statement. When he was in school, he was quite popular, but he never let that change who he was, and he always made time for me and stuck up for me. So when he left for Florida, I was basically alone. “Now, will you tell me when you’ll be here?”

“Of course not. That’s not like me at all, now is it? Now, do me a favor and get yourself some coffee before anyone dies, and I’ll talk to you later, okay? Good luck tomorrow night!” Alecksander and his band attended this program where every week, a bunch of musicians and bands have this big concert. They just cover whatever song they want. The only rule was that you were not allowed to tell anyone what song you were performing. Of course, they were allowed to let any of their peers perform with them. With the money they earn, they split it up with each person equally. It took a lot of work, Alecks always said, but the outcome and the reaction from the crowd was always worth it.

“That sounds groovy!” Alecks is known for his ridiculous adjectives. “Talk to you later, bye Aimee!”

“SEE YA, SWEETCHEEKS!” the same drunken voice from before called out.

After we hung up, I looked over to my nightstand and noticed the worn out belt I wore every day. Before Alecks left to Florida four years prior, I took his black and white checkered belt, and he took my pink belt that was three sizes too big for me at the time. We swore we’d wear it at all times, until I moved to Florida with him. It sounds kind of stupid, but I was fourteen, and to be honest, he’d do anything for me.

As I looked at the belt, it finally hit me. I was out of school, never to return. And I was not the person I wanted to be. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw the long frizzy, blonde hair, and the pale pink dress my mother picked out for me, and only saw a child in the mirror and not the person I was, the person I wanted to be. Finally, after a long while of observation, I looked my reflection dead in the eye, and said, “I’ve got to grow up.”