Thank you to those who have reviewed my other fics. There are a few of you and some guests that always leave reviews and, for that, I'm very thankful. Knowing that you're reading, what you like, and what you're looking forward to is very motivating to getting these written. I am currently working on some other ideas as well as detailed in the notes of my story My Not-So-Funny Valentine, but if you have anything you'd love to see, let me know! I'm always looking for inspiration.
Title comes from the song "Graduation (Friends Forever)" by Vitamin C.
The gang is 17/18 here. TJ and Spinelli have been dating since sophomore year.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
...
Friends Forever
June 3, 2010
We march, two-by-two, back through the doors of the exposition building, leaving our friends, families, and teachers in the main event space, and then that's it. It's over. With our diplomas in hand, our tassels moved to the left, and the ceremony complete, we are all officially graduated. It's a surreal feeling, like an out-of-body experience or some sort of big dream. Not so much that I graduated, because I was always on track to graduate, but surreal because I graduated here.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that I would still be here today. Having attended twelve schools by the time I was nine, I never would have believed it if someone told me years ago that I would be graduating side-by-side with my friends from Third Street, the best friends I've ever had.
I quickly break out of the line and head toward the front where I know my friends will all be congregating. TJ and Spinelli led the class into the hall, and then back out, as president and vice president. Gretchen stood right behind TJ as valedictorian, Greta Grobler behind Spinelli as the class salutatorian. The rest of us, from Ashley Armbruster to Ryan Zhang, walked in alphabetical order, meaning Mikey was near the front and Vince toward the middle with me somewhere in between the two of them.
It takes me a minute to find them in the clusters of my classmates. I have to dodge two of the Ashleys, split up Sam and Dave, and squeeze through the Megans, but I finally make it to where my friends stand. As I approach, I can see Gretchen showing Mikey the small plaque she received after her valedictory. TJ and Spinelli seem caught up in their own little world. He has her in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist, almost like they're one person. If they were wearing the same color gown, I'm not sure I'd be able to tell where one of them ended and the other began. But since TJ is wearing navy and Spinelli's in red, it makes it a little easier to tell.
"Oh, for God's sake, get a room," I hear Vince say.
I turn to find him striding quickly toward us, his navy gown flapping behind him as he nearly runs toward us. But, he doesn't wait for them to detangle, and instead just joins in and the three of them are suddenly a mess of arms and legs. For a minute, I think TJ is supporting both Spinelli and Vince's weight and the three nearly take a tumble.
"Hey, no one said anything about group hugs!" Mikey exclaims. "I love group hugs!"
Mikey heads over and wraps his arms around them as well, Spinelli now sandwiched between the three boys. Gretchen walks over and cautiously joins in. I shake my head.
"Gus, get over here!"
"And hurry it up, Jarhead, I'm getting claustrophobic!"
My friends are crazy, but I wouldn't trade them for the world.
I join in between Mikey and Gretchen. We stand for a minute, not saying a word, just enjoying each other's company. Then, over Spinelli's shoulder, I see TJ smile at us.
"Guys, I say this is a job well done," he says. "Mission accomplished."
We haven't done a high stakes prank in years, not like the ones we used to do on the playground at Third Street, but hearing the phrase brings back those memories.
The shutter of a fancy camera sounds around us and I break away just a little to see where it's coming from. I'm surprised to see Theresa LaMaise, wearing a light blue dress and her hair half-up and half-down. I haven't seen much of her since Third Street, when she used to break potato chips to mark the arrival of the king to formal events. She did it for King Bob, then King Freddy, and then for TJ. Now, she's without chips, and just the camera instead.
She smiles at us.
"Now, that's a good picture," she says. "Congratulations, you guys!"
"Thanks," I say. She has sure grown up. "What are you doing here? Sitting through a boring graduation ceremony when you could have the day off?"
She's only a sophomore. The rest of the school has today off so the teachers can be here for our Thursday graduation.
"Yearbook," she tells us. "Stupid, really, that these pictures will be in the yearbook next year after you're all gone, but they still want us here." Then she turns to me specifically. "And, I don't find graduations boring at all. I think they're lovely. So I volunteered to come."
She turns away from me and over to Gretchen. "That was a wonderful speech."
It really was great, but I know how hard Gretchen worked on it. She started writing it in April, after the final tallies came in and she had secured the valedictorian position over Greta Grobler by a few tenths of a point. All five of us had looked at that speech about six hundred times and I've heard so many iterations of it at this point that when Gretchen read it today it actually felt like a whole new speech.
"Thank you," Gretchen says.
And then Theresa smiles at TJ and Spinelli. "And you guys did a great job making sure the ceremony wasn't too stodgy. Last year when my brother graduated it was so stiff."
The class president and vice president basically run the actual ceremony, sitting on the stage with the valedictorian, salutatorian, principal, superintendent, and the senior faculty. The principal welcomes everyone into the graduation and then hands it off to them to lead us through everything until the diplomas. TJ and Spinelli threw in a bunch of jokes and kept everyone laughing, but I didn't really expect anything less.
"Yeah, I thought Superintendent Skinner was going to have a heart attack though," Vince says, his arm over TJ's shoulder. "The two of you playing footsies."
"Wait, when was that?" I ask.
Vince looks around TJ at me, a look of disbelief on his face. "What were you doing during Grobler's speech, Gus?"
"I was listening to the salutatory," I say. What else would I have been doing? "Greta's speech was really nice."
"I think you may be the only one who actually listened to it," Gretchen says, shaking her head. "These two were causing too much of a distraction."
TJ just smirks. "I was bored. It took too long to get to her and she isn't Gretchen, so what was the point?" he whines.
"Yeah, well, the rest of us, except apparently Gus, were betting on when Skinner would bust the vein in his head watching you two flirt like you did in middle school," Vince says. He puffs out his chest. "Ashley B and I are sharing the winnings."
Theresa giggles. "You all are exactly the same as I remember," she says.
"You mean crazy?" I ask at the same time as Vince and TJ both saddle up to her on either side and say, in unison, "Except we're more handsome right?"
"Oh, brother," Spinelli groans, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.
Theresa just keeps giggling.
She takes another picture of us, this time not candid, before she decides she needs to actually do her job. She gives us one final smile and then disappears into the crowd.
"Wow, she grew up," I mutter as I lose sight of her.
Mikey smiles. "Ah, yes, no longer meek and small, with a trail of cornchips behind her, Theresa has grown into a charming young lady."
Vince leaves TJ's side and comes over to me. "You should ask for her phone number."
"Wait, what? Why?"
I swear all five of them look at me like I'm insane.
"Gus, I say this as one of your best friends," Spinelli says. "You're an idiot."
TJ elbows her in the side and she glares at him. He ignores her and smiles at me instead. "Dude, she likes you."
My eyes widen. "Me?"
No, she does not. There was absolutely no indication of that in our conversation at all. Besides, I haven't even seen much of her. Maybe here or there in the halls. But, how can she like me if I haven't had much conversation with her? I think they're all lying. They're just upset that I developed a not-so-subtle crush on Ashley T and are trying to sway me into thinking Theresa likes me, knowing I used to like her back at Third Street. That's it. That's definitely it.
And, luckily, I don't get the chance to delve too much into it, because before we can go any further, our parents find us.
They come as a group. I suppose it's inevitable that our parents would become friends, or at least friendly, given how close the six of us are to each other. We all get enveloped into our parents' embraces and then they want pictures, so we smile at the cameras again and again until it's time to go.
Most of my friends and classmates will have their extended families over now and I am no exception. My grandparents have flown in from Omaha and Alexandria to be here and it'll be quieter than some other parties, but nice nonetheless. As my grandparents go to find the car they drove in, I walk with my parents, my mom still telling me how proud she is as we walk arm in arm.
"Yes, Gus, my boy, we've never been prouder," my dad says.
My father walks with a limp not noticeable to most. To someone looking for it, it's just barely perceivable. It's one of the many wounds he brought back with him from overseas. Only days after I started at Third Street, 9-11 happened. My father stayed stateside for a year, training new recruits at his base before he and his troops were sent on tour. He returned from Afghanistan with only emotional scars. It was on his second tour in Iraq when I was in middle school that he returned with physical damage on top of the emotional traumas. He lost his leg and suffered from severe PTSD.
Now tethered to a desk job, my grandparents on both sides urged us to move closer to family. My mom's parents in Omaha offered their home and positions in their family business. My dad's parents in Alexandria pressured him to take the position offered to him at the Pentagon. I figured that would be the last of Arkansas for me. I told my friends, prepared to hide out in TJ's treehouse much like I had stayed in Old Rusty when I thought we were moving at in fourth grade, and began to accept that the only place I had ever truly belonged was going to be behind me. I remember being absolutely shocked when I overheard my dad telling my grandfather over the phone that he was staying on base to assist in training recruits here in Arkansas, that he had already accepted a non-combat position here and that we would not be moving again. At least not until I graduated high school.
My parents have made a lot of sacrifices for me in the past, as parents do, but I'll be grateful for this one for the rest of my life.
I take the cap off my head as I sit in the back seat of the car, playing with the red and blue strings of the tassel, touching the golden "10" that hangs from it. My parents gave me the opportunity to stay with the only friends I've ever known, the five kids that took me in when no one else at any other school had ever done that before.
"Mom? Dad?"
They both turn. "What is it, Gus?" my mom asks.
"Thank you."
They understand.
We have lunch and talk with my grandparents for a little bit before I decide to take a nap. Tonight, all the seniors in our class go to something called Project Graduation, which is essentially a giant post-grad party to keep us as safe as they can. Tonight we'll board buses that will take us to an undisclosed location that's far enough away that we can't leave on our own but close enough that if our parents need us for some sort of family emergency it's not too far. Each of our families will get some sort of automated message tonight with our location, just in case, and we'll find out where we're going when we get there. We'll have adult chaperones, including teachers and some parents, doing organized alcohol-free activities with us all night. It's a way to combat student-run post-grad activities that include alcohol and drugs and, in recent years, have led to drunk driving accidents and drug overdoses. My parents thought this sounded like a great idea and I'm excited too to spend one more fun night with all my friends.
I drive my truck over to the school around six thirty, wanting to get there in plenty of time. They did warn us that the buses leave at seven on the dot.
Mikey and Gretchen are already there, each standing in the schoolyard with small bags. I have one as well, with extra comfortable clothes, a bathing suit, and other things that were on the list of items the school told us to bring.
"Hello, Gus, my friend," Mikey says as I approach them. "How was the rest of your afternoon?"
"Good. Hung out with my family and then I took a nap."
Gretchen nods. "I did the same as well."
"A nap probably would have been a good idea," Mikey says. "I wish I had thought of that."
I look around. "The others not here yet?"
They shake their heads.
"Vince is coming up now," Gretchen says, nodding over my shoulder. I turn to see him, his basketball duffle over his shoulder, and then look back to Gretchen. "TJ and Spinelli will show up as the buses are leaving."
"Wouldn't be Teej and Spin if they came any earlier," Vince says, dropping his stuff. "So, what do you think this thing's going to be like?"
"I recall Kurst mentioning that last year's event included lots of food, some group games, and then stations such as t-shirt decorating and card games," Mikey says.
"Group games? Like dodgeball or maul ball?" Vince asks. "I'm down for that."
I wince at the thought of maul ball. We haven't played that in years, but I think I still have bruises from it.
They start boarding us on the buses fifteen minutes before seven and, true to form, TJ and Spinelli show up at 6:58. Mr. Gomez, our class senate advisor, just shakes his head as the two of them fall into the empty seats we saved for them. You'd think with how Type A TJ is in terms of his plans that he'd have a better sense of time, but it's not the case. Unless it has to do with a plan or a prank, he's late for everything, and Spinelli's not much better when she's by herself versus when she comes with TJ.
"Didn't think you'd show," Vince teases.
TJ turns around as the bus starts moving. "I had to make a grand entrance, you know," he says, winking.
We're on the bus for about forty-five minutes before we take an exit off the highway, entering a town I don't know. I look around the bus and see my classmates in various states of attention. Some have headphones in, some are reading, some are talking, some just look out the window. TJ and Spinelli seem to be napping, her head on his shoulder and his resting on hers, his hat low over his face. In the seat behind them, Gretchen reads a book as thick as my head and Vince has his headphones in, his head bobbing. Beside me, Mikey looks out the window, just as I am, to see where we're pulling up.
A few of the buses have already arrived when ours pulls up in front of a YMCA. They keep the doors shut as Mr. Gomez goes over some of the ground rules. We're not allowed outside of the building. We still need to behave ourselves. And we'll be checked at the door for substances so if we brought any and want to get inside, he says there will be a chaperone collecting anything outside and you won't get in trouble if you brought and give it up, just if you brought it and try to sneak it in.
Finally, once they finish checking the bus ahead of us, they let us off.
A few of the YMCA employees check our bags and let us in. The open gym has music playing and tables full of pizza, snacks, and drinks. We beeline it over there and grab some food before finding a spot to sit together.
Once the final bus unloads and they've also had the chance to grab food, our principal and another guy who must be in charge of the YMCA give us the real rules of the building. We can use any of the open rooms – the squash courts, the open gym, the pool. One of the smaller rooms is going to be a designated quiet room in case anyone wants to sleep. The front lobby area will have t-shirt design and bingo. The open gym will have group games to start and then later on in the night they'll open up the ball bins. There will be some sort of surprise around three in the morning. It all sounds good to me.
"So, in order to get everyone warmed up, we'll do a game of dodgeball," our principal says.
"Sweet," Vince says beside me. I groan. I hate dodgeball. I've avoided playing it since elementary school. "What do you say, El Diablo? You up for one last game since there's no little kids around to hit?"
I shake my head. "I think I'll watch."
Vince ends up being one of the captains and Vance Lombardi, the lacrosse captain, heads the other team. Ultimately, our crew ends up a little divided. Vince takes Spinelli first and I think Vance takes TJ just to piss Vince off because he can't have everyone he wants. So Vince retaliates and takes Vance's best friend, Meghan Rigelli. For a while, it goes like that. Gretchen goes to Vince, Mikey to Vance. The last two, like always, are Randall and Menlo. Vince looks physically pained when he chooses Randall, who only slightly edges out Menlo in athletic talent.
I'm not the only one to sit out, but I'm the only guy. I look out at the groups of girls who chose not to play and try to find someone I can sit with, but I'm not really friends with any of them. The Megans are worse than the Ashleys. Whereas the Ashleys have some sort of moral fiber, the Megans just don't know when to stop. There are a few girls from Third Street, but I can't remember their real names and I doubt Swinger Girl and Upside Down Girl would be happy with me if I addressed them as such.
So I sit on the floor a little ways away from the Ashleys.
"Like, I did not come here for dodgeball," Ashley B complains.
"Why did we even come at all?" Ashley Q moans. "Like, why did we think being cooped up in this sorry excuse of a gym would be fun?"
"We can totally play squash later," Ashley A says. "Get away for a bit."
Maybe I should have just played dodgeball.
"Hey, Gus."
I turn away as Vince pelts Vance with particularly hard hit and find Ashley T sitting next to me. Never in a million years would I have expected that any of the Ashleys would talk to me for the sake of talking. But, freshman year, Ashley T had math with me and Spinelli. By virtue of the seating being in alphabetical order, the two of them sat right next to each other. I thought they were going to kill each other, but the next year when we actually got to choose seats, Spinelli sat down in the empty seat beside Ashley T and I followed, joining their desk clump.
Turns out, Ashley T is actually sort of nice when you get her away from her clique. She's kind of funny too. And not funny in a mean way, just funny. I'm not sure I'd call her a friend, but she's not an enemy anymore. None of them seem to be, at least to me. We're civil acquaintances now, their group and ours. Except Spinelli and Ashley Q, they still hate each other.
"How come you're not out there playing?" she asks.
Ashley T is also really pretty and I have a bad habit of getting tongue-tied when I talk to pretty girls.
"Oh, um, yeah, I don't play dodgeball," I say. "Bad history, I guess."
She smiles and I turn away. TJ catches the ball Spinelli throws at him and I think I see fire in her eyes. He just smirks at her and points to the jail. I don't know how he doesn't get more intimidated. She may be one of my best friends, but she's still terrifying.
"Doesn't have to do with a manicure?" she asks, holding out her own hand. Her fingers are painted a bright cherry red that matches the color of the gown she wore earlier today.
I know she's joking, but I can't joke back. I'm not TJ or Vince, who could answer with a suave reply. Instead, I say, "Oh, uh, no."
Mikey gets hit and wanders over toward us rather than to his own jail, clearly done with the game. I've never been happier to have a reprieve.
"Ah, Ashley T, what a pleasure," he says as he sits down. "It is brutal out there."
"Did you hit anyone?" she asks.
He shakes his head. "I don't throw dodgeballs, it's much too reminiscent of violence for my liking." He points to the side he was on. "I was in charge of the jail before I was hit."
"How was that?" I ask.
"Fine until Spinelli ended up there. I think I'm going to have to wash my ears out with soap after listening to her," he says with a wink. "TJ is going to get it when she finally gets freed."
I don't doubt it.
"Like, Ashley T!" We all turn to see the other Ashleys standing, their arms crossed. "Come on, we're going to go check out that dumb shirt decorating station."
"Do you guys want to come?" she asks.
Mikey stands before I can even think of a negative reply. "That sounds wonderful actually. Thank you."
If you had told me in fourth grade that one day Mikey and I would be sitting at a table decorating t-shirts with the Ashleys, I would have laughed. But, here we are. There are a few other girls, but nonetheless the Ashleys are here and we're here.
The chaperone at the table hands us all a plain white t-shirt and the table has any decorating tools we could possibly need. There is paint, glitter, stencils, Sharpies, and more. I just wish there were examples. I'm not extraordinarily creative. The others at the table seem to go right for it. Mikey starts writing verse on his. Each of the Ashleys starts by marking a fancy "A" on the shirt pocket.
What's important for me?
Well, I guess, let's start at the beginning. I grab a Sharpie marker and write the number "3" on the pocket to represent Third Street, the first place I ever felt like I really belonged. Then I just draw and doodle on the rest of the shirt. I put some musical notes along the bottom hem and draw a trumpet, my band instrument. Then I put "2010" on it for the graduation year. It's actually not coming out too bad.
Sam and Dave grab seats on the other side of the table from us just as I'm adding our high school logo. Or trying to – the Warrior helmet is a little hard. I should have gone to find Spinelli and asked her to outline it for me so I'd just have to color it in. It looks more like a chicken than a Warrior helmet. Maybe I'll just make it into a chicken and then ask Spinelli for help.
"What did you guys do?" Sam asks. Or it might be Dave. I can never tell them apart.
The other leans over the table, taking in Mikey's shirt and then mine. "What's the three for?" Realization dawns on his face before I can even answer. "Oh, for Third Street! I like that. Mind if I put that on mine too?"
I shrug. I don't have a monopoly on the idea.
Both of the former diggers take a Sharpie off the table in unison. One grabs red, the other blue, but they both put a "3" on the shirt pocket just as I had. I've never been a trendsetter, but it's nice to see someone appreciate my decorating.
"There they are!"
I turn away from Sam and Dave. Vince walks into the front area where the table is, the other three following behind him. Mikey finally looks up from the poem he is writing on the front of his shirt as our friends come up.
"Pull up some chairs, my friends," Mikey says.
The decorating table isn't packed yet. Some of the girls have already left and now it's just the Ashleys, Sam and Dave, and us. It allows plenty of space for the other four, but they remain standing, looking like they don't quite know what to make of the table.
"What are you doing?" Vince asks.
Mikey explains the decorating as the chaperone comes around with shirts for them and guides them to seats. Gretchen and Vince take the two open next to Mikey while TJ and Spinelli head for the ones next to Sam and Dave, across from the Ashleys.
"Hey, Spinelli?" She turns. "Will you outline the Warrior logo for me?"
"Sure thing."
I scoot my chair a little toward Mikey so she can stand between me and Ashley T. She reaches for one of the blue markers and starts. While she draws, I feel TJ come up behind my other shoulder and I glance up to see he's looking at Mikey's shirt and then my own.
"Looking for ideas?" I tease. If there's anyone less artistically gifted in our group than me, it's TJ. Neither one of us has a good eye for that kind of stuff.
He chuckles, but he doesn't get to say anything before Sam, or Dave, says something first.
"We took ideas from Gus," he says. He holds up his shirt. There are footballs, shovels, lacrosse sticks, but the "3" stands out on the pocket. "The three is for Third Street."
"Nice idea, Gus," TJ says, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Maybe we should all do that."
Spinelli looks up with an eyebrow raised. "Like some sort of cult?"
Vince, who has already drawn a large number "1" on the body of his t-shirt, puts a "3" on the pocket too and lifts it up for us to see. "Hey, we kind of are a little like a cult."
"Not a cult," Gretchen states as she adds her own "3" to her shirt. "We all merely have closer relationships to each other, both good and bad, than those who attended the larger elementary schools in the district."
I guess that makes sense. Third Street School is the smallest elementary school. Some, like Thirteenth Street, are more than four times as big. Of course we would know each other better than kids who went to the other schools, considering how small it was. There isn't a single kid who went to Third Street with us that I don't know. Even if I only know them by their playground names I still recognize them. I still know who they are.
"I already wrote on my pocket!" Mikey exclaims.
"Just put it on the sleeve, you big lummox," Spinelli says.
That instantly calms him and he folds his sleeve down so that when he puts the shirt on the "3" will stand out.
I've never been a trendsetter, but a few hours later when I go to collect my shirt from where it was drying, I can tell which of the shirts belong to who just because of the numbers. There have to be at least thirty shirts with the number "3" somewhere on it. There's a shirt with a "3" on a swing. There's a "3" hanging upside down off a bar on another. Spinelli drew a lopsided crown on TJ's "3" when he wasn't looking. The Ashleys all put a purple "3" on theirs, intricately entwined with their fancy "A" designs. Even Randall's shirt has a "3" on it. Somehow, word must have gotten out about the trend.
Everyone begins losing steam around two thirty. It has been a long day, after all. There are a few people lazily tossing around a basketball in the gym, but a lot of people sit off to the side, my group of friends included. I'm glad I took a nap earlier because I'm not quite as fatigued as some of the others. Mikey is fighting to keep his eyes open as he sits against the bleachers and Vince stares off at the kids playing basketball, his eyes unfocused and dazed. Even Gretchen, who claimed to have napped earlier, has her head on Vince's shoulder with her eyes closed. The only two besides myself with any energy are TJ and Spinelli, and they're only paying attention to each other. TJ lays on his back with his knees bent so Spinelli can sit on him, using his legs like a chair back. They hold each other's hands, swaying them back and forth in front of them, and seem to be having fun. I don't know how. Maybe when you're in love that kind of stuff is fun. They do all sorts of that cutesy stuff so it must be. I've never dated anyone though so I don't know for sure.
They must have planned the schedule knowing that the energy would start dying now because Mr. Gomez starts calling everyone into the gym who isn't already in here. He has us sit on the floor in front of a row of chairs.
"What do you think this is?" I ask.
"Must be the surprise!" Mikey says. "Oh, I wonder what it is."
Mr. Gomez stands at the front of the group with a man in button down shirt and jeans. He introduces the man as a hypnotist, who is going to do a show for us. I raise an eyebrow. I've only ever seen a hypnotist once, back in fourth grade. The Amazing Jeffrey came to Third Street and ended up accidentally hypnotizing Principal Prickly into thinking he was six years old. I've been a little scared of hypnotists ever since.
"Ugh. This is the surprise? Hypnotism is a bunch of hooey," Spinelli grumbles, crossing her arms.
"But, don't you remember the Amazing Jeffery back at Third Street?" I ask. "He got Principal Prickly to think he was six."
She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, and Prickly came out of it because Gretchen held a pencil in his face. She didn't know what she was doing. She was nine!" She shakes her head. "You ask me, I think Prickly just wanted the day off."
"Yeah, I could see that," Vince adds. "We didn't even get in trouble for taking advantage of him all day. I'm with Spin. Prickly just seized the opportunity."
"All hypnotism is," Gretchen states, "is a state of deep relaxation where the individual has focused attention and an increased capacity for suggestion response. And, while there may be something to hypnotherapy, I'm not so sure about stage hypnotism."
"So, you think Prickly was faking too?" I ask.
She shrugs. "Not necessarily. Considering Principal Prickly wasn't the volunteer, that theoretically lessens the chances of many of the deceptive criticisms of hypnotism, such as peer pressure and the psychological power of belief. Often times, subjects are more or less likely to be able to be placed in trance due to a variety of reasons, such as personality and willingness to comply with–"
"Exactly," Spinelli says, cutting her off. "The people he chooses are probably already in on it. It's all fake."
Mikey rubs his hands together in thought. "I don't know. I saw a road hypnotism show last summer and that seemed pretty real to me."
"Well, regardless," TJ says. "It's always funny to watch someone act dumb on stage."
The hypnotist begins by addressing us as a large crowd. There is a row of empty chairs behind him, but he doesn't attempt to fill them. He just starts in on all of us, trying to see who is the most easily put in a trance.
"Alright, so if anyone is feeling nervous, just ignore the instructions for the next three minutes. Everyone else, listen to me," he says. He switches on the projector and there is a large spinning design. "Okay, everyone, sit crosslegged on the floor, place your hands on your knees, back straight, and focus on the projection. Take a deep breath in and a deep breath out. Now blink."
I do as he says. He lifts his hand.
"Now, I am going to ask you to blink again, and as I drop my hand, your eyes will get heavier, like they do when you're falling asleep, and as my hand drops, you'll allow them to close. Stay relaxed. Stay calm." He asks us to blink and then starts lowering his hand. I find my eyes closing. "Your eyes are now shut and the more you try to open them, the more they'll stay shut. Can anyone open their eyes?"
I feel a jolt in my body, terrified that I can't open my eyes. Gretchen did say something about the psychological power of belief – am I really hypnotized or am I just unable to open my eyes because I think he's hypnotizing me? Oh, no. I don't want to be hypnotized. With another jolt, my eyes open and I take a quick look around. Vince and Spinelli both have their eyes open, though I'm not sure she shut hers in the first place. The other three still have their eyes shut. Mikey looks utterly relaxed, Gretchen looks thoughtful, and TJ looks skeptical. There are quite a few of us with our eyes open, so I don't feel so bad about scaring myself into opening my own.
"On three, you can open your eyes if you can't. One. Two. Three." Everyone else opens their eyes. "Who could not open your eyes?"
There are actually quite a few people who raise their hands throughout the crowd. TJ and Gretchen don't raise their hands, but Mikey does, the only one in our group who believes this stuff without any sort of doubt.
"Alright. I'm going to pick a few of you who couldn't open your eyes to come up and be my subjects. If you're unwilling, put your hands down now."
A few more hands go down. Then the hypnotist begins picking about six or seven of the kids with their hands still raised. Once he has his crew assembled, he begins the process of putting them to sleep.
"See," Spinelli says, gesturing toward the front. "He picked his own volunteers. They're totally in on it. This is total bull."
Vince chuckles. "Why don't you go up there then?" He gives her a small nudge, almost like he's pushing her toward the front, and he holds her arm up, waving it at the hypnotist to get his attention. "Tell him he needs proof."
She pulls her arm out of his grasp and smacks him as all the heads of our classmates up front go down and the hypnotist turns back to the crowd.
"Some of you are probably skeptical, am I right? You think these kids I called on were in on it?" I look around and see a few heads bobbing in agreement. "So, now I'm going to ask you all to choose someone to come up, rather than me, to show you it's real. So, you all, send someone up to me."
There are close to three hundred kids in our graduating class. Not all of them came to Project Graduation, but the majority did and everyone who did is in this room. I'm not sure a group of at least a hundred and fifty is going to come together to choose one name. But, I guess I'm not surprised when TJ's name starts getting tossed around and before long the whole group is chanting, "TJ! TJ! TJ!"
If it were me, I'd be bright red and trying to keep my head down. TJ, on the other hand, has never been shy. He stands from where he sits next to Spinelli and just eggs everyone on, motioning for the crowd to keep chanting as he walks up.
"This is so dumb," Spinelli grumbles.
"You afraid he'll embarrass himself up there?" I ask.
She crosses her arms. "Oh, I know he's going to do something foolish. Forget the hypnotist. Kid's been the class clown for years."
Vince nods in agreement. "A whole room of people to prank while he's faking being hypnotized. This is like TJ's dream come true."
"Well, I for one am intrigued," says Gretchen. "This is a lovely experiment in the practice of hypnotism. We can ask for TJ's reflections at the end of the performance."
TJ comes to a stop beside the hypnotist.
"Popular kid," the hypnotist comments.
TJ shrugs. "I'm class president, that's why," he says, as if he isn't the most popular kid in school. Everybody likes TJ. Except Gordy, but I don't think that counts.
"Class president, huh?" the hypnotist says. "That means you have a vice president, right? Who's that?"
"That would be the lovely Ashley Spinelli," TJ says, turning our direction and winking. "But, she will never come up here, so don't even think about."
"Alright, I'm going to put you in a little trance now," he says, doing the same thing to TJ that he did to the others. "Now, when I snap my fingers, you'll go to sleep. But I want you to stay standing when you sleep. Okay? One. Two. Three. Sleep." He snaps his fingers and TJ's head instantly drops. "Good."
He pushes TJ back a little and has him sit in a chair.
The hypnotist goes back to the others, leaving TJ sleeping in the chair. I keep watching him, expecting him to lift his head and wink at the crowd, show that he's not actually sleeping, but he stays still. I don't think I've ever seen TJ this still before, not even at sleepovers in elementary school or during games of freeze tag. And, he's usually pretty good at those.
"I don't know, guys," I say as the hypnotist makes Vance count his fingers without using the number seven. "He looks asleep."
"It's not actually sleep, Gus," Gretchen says. "It's a hypnotic trance. When you're under hypnosis, your natural inhibitions are lowered, so the body simply allows itself to do as it's told to do."
"Yeah, if he was actually asleep, good luck to the hypnotist waking him up," Spinelli says. "TJ sleeps like the freaking dead."
"Okay, everyone, sleep," the hypnotist says, and anyone up front who was awake now has their head down. "Now, when you wake up, you'll realize that for graduation your parents gave you a fancy sports car, so you're going to put those keys in the ignition and start revving. Alright, alright? Okay, everyone, one, two, three."
Every one of them starts to do exactly as they were told. Some of them stand up and dig in their pockets for the keys, some just start driving, but they all put their hands on an imaginary steering wheel. The hypnotist then tells them to drive faster and faster and faster and they, in turn, start using their feet on imaginary gas pedals and start jerking the steering wheels. It's hilarious. Then the hypnotist has a siren go off and tells them all to pull over and put their hands where he can see them.
They all raise their hands from their sides or from their imaginary steering wheels. TJ looks like a fool. He has his hands stretched out toward the hypnotist, as if he has them out the window of his sports car, so the 'cop' can see them while he stands at a different car.
"Okay, here's the deal. The state trooper who stopped you, he's new. He's not taking any lame excuses. You give him a good one and you get off without the fine for speeding," the hypnotist says. He goes to the first person in the row, a girl I don't know. "Why were you speeding?"
"I'm late for school."
He continues down the line, some reactions funnier than others. Then he gets to TJ.
"So, TJ, why were you speeding?"
"I have an emergency."
"An emergency, eh? What kind?"
"My wife is having a baby."
The audience of our classmates laughs hysterically, but I watch TJ for any sort of flinch or movement that will give him away. There is no way that TJ is actually hypnotized. He's playing a joke on the audience now. I'm sure of it.
TJ and Spinelli have been together for so long that there are always rumors about them. Most of them are harmless, almost fangirlish in nature, and our group gets a good laugh out of them. All senior year there were so many rumors about the two of them getting engaged but the one that took the cake was when people actually thought he'd propose to her during the "King and Queen" dance at prom. Of course, some of them aren't so nice. There was a nasty rumor I'm sure Ashley Q circulated about Spinelli being pregnant even though she wasn't. But, our school loves gossip so that went around like wildfire for a few days before something new went around.
So, either his subconscious is more bothered by the rumors than I thought, or he's throwing all the rumors back at our classmates. Although I can't be sure, I'm inclined to believe the latter.
"You don't look old enough to have a wife," the hypnotist says.
"It's the hat." Then he looks frantically at the cop. "I have to go. My wife will kill me if I miss it."
"Would you like a police escort?"
"That would be great."
"You, sleep." TJ's head droops and the hypnotist turns to the crowd. "You all picked a good one. He's funny."
He continues down the line and then starts a new activity. He tells one kid his new name is EIEIO. He tells someone else they can't speak English. He makes someone forget her name entirely. He has someone turn into a cat. He has someone scream, "I love Bonky," every time certain words are said.
"Alright, let's wake up, TJ," the hypnotist says. "He's been napping for a minute."
He goes over and wakes TJ, who looks sort of dazed as the guy talks to him.
"You said you were class president?" TJ nods. "Okay, so, what I want you to do now is go out into the crowd and find your vice president. That's your mission." He nods again. "But, when you find this person, you will suddenly not remember who they are."
The snorts and eye rolls are palpable from the audience. Anyone who was at any time skeptical of hypnotism has just been vindicated. TJ Detweiler forgetting Ashley Spinelli? Now, that even has Mikey rolling his eyes.
"This is gonna be a real tragedy," Spinelli says, and everyone in our vicinity starts to chuckle.
"So much for your experiment, Gretch," Vince says.
TJ comes strolling through the crowd, looking like he is on a mission to save the world. His chest is all puffed out and he walks with an air of confidence directly to our spot. This is it. The poor hypnotist's show is going to go down with whatever TJ has up his sleeve. I take a quick look to see some of the faculty talking and Mr. Gomez almost looks ready to grab TJ and take him out of the room before he can ruin the illusion of the event with whatever prank he is about to pull.
TJ retakes his original seat on the floor and smiles at Spinelli. "Hey."
"Hi," she says.
"You're really pretty," he says. Then he smirks. "Is your dad a boxer? Because you're a knockout."
"Oh, boy," Spinelli says under her breath while everyone around us giggles. "You're embarrassing both of us."
He looks stricken for a minute. "Oh, I'm sorry." Then he straightens, holds out a hand, and gives his genuine TJ smile. "Let's start over. I'm TJ. Who are you?"
The entire room gasps. Some people let out shocked giggles. Even the Ashleys have their eyes wide, hands over their mouths.
The hypnotist may have chosen to have TJ come up to convince us that his act wasn't an act, but he obviously didn't realize that this one simple hypnotism stunt would convince us all. Because, even if TJ was in on this, there is absolutely no way he would ever agree to do this. He has a hundred-some-odd believers now. There was no way for the hypnotist to know that TJ and Spinelli were dating. He was probably thinking this would be a nice comedy sketch for the president to forget the vice president, just like the rest had been, but no one laughs. Everyone just stares, completely shell-shocked.
I think the hypnotist sees that the reaction of the crowd isn't as he was expecting because he calls TJ back to the front. TJ just completely forgets the conversation he was just in and stands up, following direction. As soon as he gets back up there, the hypnotist sends TJ back to sleep and then wakes up Vance again, who still can't count the number seven, and now is being told to act like a chicken. A few clucks from Vance, the crowd is back in hysterics, and not long after that the show is over.
"When I count to three, you'll all awaken. You'll feel refreshed and relaxed. You will feel very calm. Very relaxed. No longer hypnotized. You will not remember what happened while you were hypnotized, but you will feel relaxed," the hypnotist says. "Alright, one, two, three."
When they come out of it, they all side-eye each other, as if trying to figure out what happened. Then Mr. Gomez comes out, has us clap for the hypnotist, and releases us to the different activities. TJ walks up to us and rolls his eyes, hugging Spinelli by pulling her back against his chest.
"Just like you said, a whole bunch of hooey," he says, leaning down to kiss her cheek before resting his chin on her head. "I was up there for, what? Two seconds?"
Gretchen is the first to speak. "Interesting," she says.
"Wait, was I not?" he asks.
Vince shakes his head. "Man, be glad you didn't have to woo Spin because you have no game," he says. "At all."
"What are you talking about?"
Gretchen fills him in on the basics of what happened with Vince adding in some colorful commentary. TJ looks horrified by most of it.
Vince laughs. "I think it's hilarious that you were hypnotized to forget Spin and then the first thing you did when you sat down was hit on her." He laughs harder. "I'm just glad the two of you met in kindergarten because that pickup line was awful."
"I think it's sweet," Mikey says. "Even under the mystical power of hypnotism, you still showed your undying affection–"
"Finish that sentence and that's the only thing undying, Mikey," Spinelli says, but it lacks her usual zing.
I notice TJ tighten his grasp on her. "Hey, at least now we know, if I ever get amnesia, you're stuck with unfortunate pickup lines," he jokes.
She nods her head but doesn't say anything in response. She just looks angry.
There's a gym-wide game of battle tag that begins after everyone has finished talking about the hypnotist activity. Mikey and I dip out after though when it morphs from battle tag to maul ball, neither one of us overly excited to play that game as new adults. Mikey suggests heading to one of the squash rooms and I've never played squash before but if it gets me out of getting tackled on a gym floor I'll do anything.
Neither one of us knows the rules, so we just hit the ball back and forth against the wall lazily and chat.
"I can't believe it's almost over," I say, looking down at my watch briefly after I hit the ball to him. "We only have a couple of hours left before the buses come."
"Alas, this may be the last time we see some of our classmates," Mikey adds.
"But not each other."
I mean for it to come out as a statement, but instead it comes out as more of a question. Every time we've left a school, I've had the same doubts. When we graduated Third Street to Spiro Agnew, I worried about the group breaking up. We didn't. When we went from middle to high school, I was terrified again and again nothing happened. If anything, our group became stronger as we aged.
But next year we'll all be across the country. Gretchen and Spinelli are both going to colleges in Boston. Gretchen is doing biomedical engineering at MIT with the goal of continuing on to some dual PhD program at MIT/Harvard. Spinelli is going in as an English major at Boston College, but in reality she's still fairly undecided. TJ is going to the University of Arkansas doing the pre-law track. I'll be in Nebraska at Creighton University, my mom's alma mater, and doing ROTC while I'm there. I want to join the air force after graduation. Vince has a scholarship for basketball to Wake Forest in North Carolina. Mikey will be in New York studying musical theater at Ithaca College.
We'll see each other at holiday breaks and summers. TJ is already planning get-togethers when we're home and calls while we're away. I'd like to say that this is the first time we're graduating that I'm not scared to lose my friends but I think a part of me will always be worried about that.
"No, this isn't the last we'll see of each other," Mikey says. He lobs the ball against the wall. "I can already see us in the future. Ten, twenty years from now, we'll still be friends. I can feel it."
And I believe him.
"How do you see it?" I ask as I hit the ball back.
"Well," he says. The ball bounces behind him and he goes to get it. Starting our casual lob back and forth before continuing. "We will all have to watch the draft together when Vince goes to the NBA."
Vince's goal since elementary school has been to play professional basketball. He is the only person who has never wavered in his career aspirations. Even Gretchen has waffled between her ultra-science careers, but Vince never has and now he's so close to his goal that we can all taste it. I'd be shocked if it didn't become a reality.
"And together we will watch Gretchen win the Nobel Prize for something," Mikey says. "She'll probably cure cancer or create some new life-saving procedure or something none of us understands."
Well, that's a given. Gretchen has always been destined for greatness in academia. I mean, she understood some bits of calculus in elementary school and by senior year she was taking more college courses than she was taking high school classes. Like Vince, she has lofty goals, like being valedictorian at MIT, and I don't for a second doubt she can do it.
"I would like to do something on Broadway, be it directing or acting or something behind the scenes," Mikey continues. "And if I can be part of one production that all of you can witness, no matter what it is, I will see that as the success of my career."
I'm sure Mikey will do more than stagehand work. His singing voice has already been recognized for how good it is. I'm excited for Mikey, excited to tell my new friends and co-workers many years from now that I'll be going to see my friend perform.
"And then we'll all be at Spinelli and TJ's wedding. I'm sure it will be an absolutely beautiful event in which we can reconnect and see each other's progress in our career choices."
If Mrs. Spinelli has any say in it, the day will be completely over-the-top. But, yes, even if our group isn't as close after college when TJ plans to propose – ever the planner, he already has a five-year plan – we'll at least be invited. If it all goes according to plan, they'll get married sometime after we graduate college. It'll be interesting to see what Spinelli decides to do for a career and, even though TJ says he wants to do more local human rights work as a lawyer, I won't rule out the idea of him going into politics.
"And you, Gus my friend, will be there for every step of the way," Mikey finishes. He smiles at me, missing the ball and letting it bounce behind him. "You will be a great pilot one day, I am sure of it, but you will always be an even better friend and I hope you know that, no matter how insignificant you feel at times, you are unbelievably important."
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. "Jeez, Mikey, don't make me cry yet."
He walks over to put a hand on my shoulder. "We should never be ashamed of our tears, my friend, because they are the language of our hearts."
If Broadway doesn't work out, I'm sure Mikey could publish poems and become famous.
We play our fake-squash game for a few more rounds before deciding to go check out the pool area. We all brought our swimsuits and none of us have even gone to see it yet. Maybe we can pull the others away from maul ball long enough to go for a swim. We're at the pool doors when we hear our names.
"Gus! Mikey!"
We both turn to see TJ and Vince. TJ's eyes are wide and almost frantic, while Vince looks annoyed.
"Have either of you seen Spin?" Vince asks, jerking his thumb toward TJ. "Captain Crazy over here is going nuts."
"She disappeared during maul ball," TJ says.
Vince shakes his head. "I'm telling you, Teej, she's probably off messing with Ashley Q one last time."
TJ sighs and takes off his baseball hat, chewing on the snapback for a second. TJ usually fiddles with his hat when he's nervous, but I've never seen him fiddle with it this much. TJ is typically unflappable.
"I dunno," he says finally. "I just want to find her."
Vince turns to us. "Are the Ashleys in the hot tub? I heard that's where they were headed and Spin brought a fake spider to prank Q with, so I'm sure that's where she is."
"We haven't been in yet," I say. "But we can send her out if we see her."
TJ barrels passed us and Vince rolls his eyes, joining the three of us as we follow. "Just humor him," he says. "He has Gretchen on a wild goose chase through all the side rooms and girls' rooms."
"I mean, Spinelli disappearing during maul ball is a little unusual," I say.
"Yes, she loves maul ball," Mikey adds as we approach TJ, who stands at the entrance to the pool area. "As barbaric as it is."
"Exactly," TJ says. He sighs. "She's not here."
We all scan the area too and don't see her. We don't see the Ashleys either. The Megans are in the hot tub, so the Ashleys will definitely not be anywhere close by. Those two cliques hate each other more than Ashley Q and Spinelli hate each other, if you can imagine that.
Mikey places a hand on TJ's shoulder. "She'll show back up. You're just running on a lack of sleep and it's making you frantic for no reason."
"Yeah, when she finds out what you made us do, she'll probably just call you a freak," Vince mumbles. "We're missing out on kickball for this."
"Where is she though?" TJ mumbles to himself. He fiddles with his hat again. "What if she got hurt? Everyone's a lot bigger than her now and she doesn't think about that. I mean, Sam and Dave alone could crush her and she was at the bottom of the maul ball pile last time I saw her."
"Well, if she got hurt, she probably didn't get all the way to the pool," Vince says. The pool is on the opposite side of the Y from the gym. "Sure, Spin's a stubborn squirt, but even she can't get all the way back here on a bum ankle or whatever you think happened to her."
"Why don't you guys go back out to the gym and check with Gretchen and we'll go down this corridor," I tell him, gesturing through the other pool door. The corridor is blocked off, but that doesn't mean anything to our group. That seems to appease him.
Mikey and I head to the far door, keeping our eyes open just in case she pops up out of the water or from another hiding spot. But I don't see her.
I do, however, see Ashley T step out of the pool locker room
"Oh, Ashley!" I say. She turns around and almost looks relieved when she sees me. Maybe that means she knows. "Have you seen Spinelli?"
"Yeah, she's in there," she says, nodding her head toward the locker room door she just came from. "I was actually going to find TJ."
"I can get him. He's looking for her," I say. "Don't let her disappear again."
"She's not going anywhere."
Mikey and I take off the other direction, getting yelled at by the lifeguard for running in the pool area, and then we slow down until we get back into the hallway. We find TJ, Vince, and Gretchen near the entrance of the gym.
"Found her," I say when we approach. "She's in the girls' locker room with the Ashleys."
"See, I told you," Vince says. "She's messing with the Ashleys. Nothing unusual there."
"Ashley T was coming out to look for you, TJ," Mikey adds.
And, just like that, TJ flies down the hallway. Vince rolls his eyes but follows and the rest of us try to keep pace. We make up ground in the actual pool by going in the far entrance, meeting back up with TJ and Vince at the locker room doors. I think, only briefly as we charge in, that we're probably not supposed to go in. But since when has TJ Detweiler ever played by the rules?
What we see is definitely not what I'm expecting to see. First of all, Spinelli is crying. Not just crying, but sobbing, mouth open as she wails. Spinelli and crying just doesn't go in the same sentence. She didn't even cry when she broke her arm during recess in fifth grade. She played through it and Finster only sent her to the nurse later in the day when she noticed her using her left hand rather than her right during our spelling quiz.
The second, almost more unbelievable part to the situation, is that the person holding her is Ashley Armbruster.
I look down at my watch. I'm beginning to question whether this is real or whether I'm suffering from 4AM hallucinations.
TJ joins the two on the floor and rubs her back, but she's so hysterical that I'm not sure she even registers anything going on around her. Ashley B, from where she stands behind Ashley A with some wet towels, walks away from the three and toward us.
"Do you know what happened?" Vince asks.
She shakes her head. "She was already crying when we came in. I think it's probably from the hypnotist, but that's just my guess."
Gretchen nods her head in agreement. "That was my thought too," she says. "She's been paranoid for weeks about going to separate colleges. I think it hit her a little too close to home."
This is the first I'm hearing of that. Spinelli has been giddy since she got her acceptance letter. She has wanted to leave Arkansas for college since we started talking about it in middle school and I'm pretty sure she and Gretchen had this unofficial pact to both try to go to Boston. Gretchen's top choice forever has been MIT and I think Spinelli picked schools in the area to apply to just to be close, because she wants to be far from home but doesn't really want to go anywhere totally alone. TJ, on the other hand, has had his plan in place to go to the University of Arkansas for as long as I can remember. Ever the planner, he says that since he wants to be a lawyer, he shouldn't go anywhere he can't get in state tuition for undergrad. They both got into their choice schools and seemed fine with being in different states. It never occurred to me that it was an issue for them.
They're TJ and Spinelli after all. It's unimaginable that they would be anything other than fine.
"Well, I figured with graduation and everything, one of us was bound to cry tonight," Vince says. "I just wouldn't have bet on it being Spin."
"Yeah, I figured it'd be me," I reply.
Everyone gets a quick chuckle out of it but when there's a particularly loud wail from the corner and we stop to look. Spinelli has now noticed TJ and has left Ashley A for him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.
Mikey clutches his hands to his heart. "Oh, our poor dear Spinelli," he says. "Why must the opening of the floodgates hurt so deeply?"
Ashley Q crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. "Well, maybe if she expressed emotion like a normal person instead of bottling them up to be tough, she wouldn't freak out over a hypnotist," she grumbles.
We all turn to side eye her. Yeah, they don't get along, but can't she be nice now for just a minute? I'm surprised to see Ashley T nudge her and Ashley B shake her head. Usually they just let Ashley Q and Spinelli go at it, but like I've noticed before, the Ashleys have at least some sort of morality and they're not typically about kicking someone when they're down.
"What?" Ashley Q insists. "We all know that's the truth."
Ashley T gives the other two Ashleys a look. "Maybe we should go stand guard? Make sure no one else comes in?"
Ashley B nods and Ashley Q looks conflicted, but ultimately the three leave the locker room. I almost wonder if maybe we should join them to give Spinelli and TJ some space, but no one else budges. So, I turn to see Ashley A standing up. She looks like she's talking to TJ, but I can't really hear what they're saying. Then she turns and walks toward us.
"I'll be right back. I'm going to grab some stuff out of my bag for her. Some Visine and a touch up and no one will ever know."
Vince reaches out for her as she tries to brush by us. "Hey, thanks."
Ashley A shakes us off. "Like, don't even worry about it. It's four in the morning and we've all been there," she says. Then she passes us and walks out.
We all stand awkwardly watching, or trying not to stare, until the tears subside. I just follow Vince's lead and so when he starts heading over, so do the rest of us.
I don't know if I've ever seen Spinelli like this. I can probably count the number of times I've seen her cry or even just close to tears on one hand, so to see her like this is really unsettling. I suppose everyone has these moments, but as wrong as it is, I definitely see her as this sort of super human. Maybe it's because I'm a crier myself but I've always looked up to her emotional strength as much if not more than her physical strength.
"If anyone finds out about this, you're all dead," she grumbles.
As much as seeing her red eyes and blotchy wet face unnerves me, hearing her say that brings this back to reality. She's still Spinelli.
"We won't tell anyone," I insist.
"Yeah, besides, by the end of the night I'm sure you won't be the only one sobbing," Vince says. He comically gestures toward me and Mikey, which draws a small smile and a chuckle from her like I'm assuming he was trying to pull.
"Are you okay?" Mikey asks.
She nods. "Yeah, I guess, I just...I just got scared when TJ couldn't remember who I was and I'm kind of nervous about going away. You know, since kindergarten we've never been apart."
"You do know you're stuck with us, right? As much as you keep trying to ditch us," Vince jokes. He scoots over next to her and TJ and rests his head on her shoulder. "And, you better know that when Wake Forest comes up to play BC you better be in the stands wearing my replica jersey or I'm going to your dorm and dragging you down. Because, we're best friends and always will be."
She rolls her eyes. "Well, I was more concerned about TJ but thanks for making this about you, Vince. Really."
He smiles back at her. "It's what I'm here for."
"You know, everyone keeps saying that this is an ending," Mikey says. "But I think of it as a new beginning for all of us."
"Not all of us are glass half-full kind of people, Mikey," Spinelli says.
TJ shrugs. "No, you know what? I think that's true," he says. "Yeah, we're done here and we're not coming back blah blah blah, but I think that's what is going to make our group so much more important. You guys have been there for everything – the good, the bad, and the ugly. I know I can't imagine a life where I'm not talking to each and every one of you on a regular basis. You guys are the only ones who will ever know this time in my life, in our lives, and I don't want to just keep that in the past."
"Deep," Vince says.
He smiles. "It's not my best pep talk, but it is past four in the morning." He winks. "Just means you have to stay tuned for a better one."
We all start to laugh at TJ's corny joke. It's definitely not as funny as we react to it, but its early morning. We must look crazy when Ashley A walks back in, armed with her pink glittery makeup bag. She works some sort of magic on Spinelli because by the time we leave the locker room, if I hadn't known she was crying I wouldn't be able to tell.
With an hour left before we board the buses back home, Mikey finds a karaoke machine sitting unused in the front area. We pull it into the gym and start going through the tunes. At first, there isn't any sort of theme. We sing anything that comes up, from Britney Spears to Bing Crosby. Our group of six gains followers with each passing song. Ashley A comes over after she organizes her bag again, which means the three others follow suit. Sam and Dave come as well. Swinger Girl. Upside Down Girl. Butch. Francis. Gordy. Phil. Menlo. Even Randall. Everyone. And before long we really do look like a cult, like Vince had called us earlier. All of us throw on our decorated shirts with the matching "3" designs.
When the karaoke machine starts with "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)" by Green Day, that infamous song played at proms and graduations, I know I'm not the only one with tears in my eyes. This may be the last time I see some of these kids, but they're all so important to me and who I am. These are the kids I grew up with, the kids I braved the hallways of Third Street with, the kids I'll always remember when I look back. We may not have been the best of friends, but we were always there when it truly mattered. I don't know if there is another class like us, or if there ever will be again, but I feel so fortunate to have been a small part of this group of amazing, unique, and crazy kids.
I'm sure our other classmates think we're silly, but I find that I don't care what they think. We're all just having a good time and spending these last hours exactly how it feels we've spent the last however many years. We spend them together, as Third Streeters.
And then, just as quickly as the night seemed to start, it ends.
We board the buses and drive home. It's a quiet ride. I think a lot of us are trying to hold onto these last moments. Or at least I am. I know I have an entire summer before college, but the minute we step off this bus, we're no longer classmates. We're people we went to school with, people we'll see at reunions.
No one really seems to know what to do when we deboard. A lot of us sort of hover in the grassy area in front of the school, none of us really wanting to be the first to leave. But, ultimately, someone has to go first and that person is Butch. Once he slinks off, everyone else trickles away. I watch the Ashleys huddle and make their way back to the parking lot. Ashley T gives me a short wave and then turns to join the other three on their way to Ashley B's Range Rover. They all get in together and I watch the silver SUV make a sharp turn left, disappearing from view.
When I turn back, it's just the six of us left.
"Well," Vince says. "I say, we all take a long nap and then meet up at Kelso's for the first milkshake of summer."
The nostalgia hits hard. Every year since fifth grade, we've always gone to Kelso's on the last day of school, sat in our typical booth, and ordered milkshakes. It sort of became a tradition for us.
"Why, that sounds like a positively tasty beginning to our summer holidays," Mikey says.
Gretchen nods. "I agree."
"Kelso is going to lose so much business without us," I say. The others all share a laugh.
"Nah, there will be someone to take our place," TJ says, a smile curving on his lips. "Hector, Tubby, and that crew can definitely match our pace."
We agree on a time to meet and then head our separate ways. The four of us who drove offer TJ and Spinelli a ride, but they decide they'd rather walk. Vince makes his way out of the parking lot first, honking to the two walkers before turning onto the main drag. The rest of us follow suit.
In order to get home from the high school, I have to pass Third Street School. I slow to a crawl as I drive by, seeing the kids on the playground before the bell rings for them to begin their Friday class. I think I can just barely make out Ms. Finster near the tetherball pole.
When I get home, my dad is at work and my mom left a note saying she was out with the grandparents. She also tells me to take a nice nap. I smile and take the stairs two at a time. When my head hits the pillow I know I'm going to be asleep in mere seconds.
But, when I get in my room, there is a large white envelope on the end of my neatly made bed. At first I think it must be from my parents or grandparents, but when I open it there is a letter inside with handwriting I don't recognize.
Dear Gus,
Congratulations again! The picture came out even better than I imagined and I thought you might like to have a copy. I figure that it might be nice for you to have as you all go off to college. This picture seems to really capture how close your friendship really is – and I find that beautiful. I printed off six, so please give the other five to TJ, Spinelli, Vince, Gretchen, and Mikey.
It was great seeing you! Hopefully I'll see you around town when you come back for breaks.
Good luck in the fall!
Theresa
I dig into the envelope for the photographs. She must have gone straight to the school's dark room after graduation yesterday to get them developed and here for me this morning. I pull the photograph from the envelope. I figured she was talking about the posed picture she took before she left our group, but instead she is talking about the candid she took before she caught our attention.
In the picture, we are in our group hug, looks of joy on all of our faces. Graduation caps askew. Big smiles. I don't think you could have captured a better moment.
She didn't leave a number, but I know where she lives. I'll have to stop by and thank her or send her something in return. This is an amazing gift. Arguably too perfect for words.
I put the pictures back in the envelope for safe keeping, removing only one for myself to keep along with the note. Then I put the envelope near my wallet as to not forget to bring it with me to Kelso's later this afternoon and climb into my bed. A nap is exactly what I need. That way I can be refreshed and ready to make more summer vacation memories with the five best friends I will ever have.
...
Notes
Episodes and movies referenced include Recess: School's Out, Bachelor Gus, The New Kid, Dodgeball City, The Hypnotist, with characters from The Challenge and Dance Lessons.
Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your feedback and read your comments. Reviews really are motivating to a writer so I would love to hear your thoughts!