Chapter One
Even as it's happening, I know that this is a dream. I've had it for weeks now. Why, why always this dream? I've never been huge on finding out what my dreams mean. I've heard people talking about how dreams are just what you want to happen. Sometimes that dreams are just a reality that you create within your mind. Some people say that sometimes, they're trying to tell you something.
I can't help but laugh. Like seriously, come on? A dream about me being best friends with Justin Bieber is trying to tell me something. Not that I've dreamed of being best friends with him. Okay, I have. Sue me. But you're suppose to tell me that a dream about being friends with a pop star is suppose to tell me something? How about me telling me why I'm always having this dream.
But I've never had a dream that seems as real as this one. Even when I'm in the dream, I'm thinking about how real it feels. It always starts out the same, like it is now. I'm in the wood and I have no clue why I'm here. Trees surround me, showing me no sign of a way out. I'm not scared though. Yeah, it has to do with the fact that I've had this dream more than once that even in sleep, I know it's not real. But even before that, the first time I had it, I wasn't scared. Freaked out, maybe but not scared. And trust me, I can't stand being alone sometimes. I can't even drive my jeep in the Oakland Hills cause sometimes it's so deserted, I feel like something's going to attack me.
I can't tell whether the sun is setting or it's early morning because the stupid trees cover the sky and I have no clue what time it is. I hear when birds nearby me take flight and fly, almost as if sensing something bad is going to happen which is why they choose to leave. I hear the wind that passes me and I have to hug my hoodie close to my body. The hood almost attaches itself to my head thanks to it being blow against my head so I cover it and for some reason, I start walking.
Where, I don't know but I know exactly where I'm going. I never question myself and what I'm doing, I just walk and walk. I pass by more trees and other nature stuff and I hear my shoes make contact with the wet ground as I go deeper and deeper into the forest. It starts getting darker after a few seconds of just walking. I look up to see if it's the sky but the trees completely cover me, cutting me off from the world as if I'm the only person on this planet.
I start getting a little freaked out at this point but never do I think about trying around. This is where I'm thinking, Okay, I'm gonna wake up soon. This dream is almost over. But I never do. I just keep walking deeper and deeper into the forest. Even though I just gave myself a pep-talk about waking up, I keep walking. It's like something is pulling me deeper and deeper into the forest.
I don't know if I walked for awhile now because you know, it's a dream, but my feet start to hurt at that point. I find a tree with a small patch of grass underneath and I sit down. I close my eyes as I take a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale, the words run through my mind as I sit there, breathing as I contemplate my next move. Out of nowhere, a rush of wind moves past me, caressing my face. And what happens next, is almost freaky. It's almost something tilts my chin, to see something that I would ignore if I didn't look around. That's when I see it.
Something moves out of the corner of my eye and I turn my head quickly. It came from somewhere in the right. I shake my head, thinking maybe I saw the whole thing. But I know that in a dream anything is possible, so I could have very well seen something. Once again, something moves. Even though it's far off in the distance, I can see how slowly it moves. I get up from where I'm sitting and I move closer to where it is. I'm halfway there when I realize that I'm running. Running towards the unknown, and since it's a dream, the impossible.
Finally I reach my destination and to what it is that I saw. I'm in a small area of the woods where there's only grass. No trees, no fallen branches just grass. Perfectly cut grass like someone was mowing it but who the hell would do that in a forest. I look right and left and see that it's buried deep inside the woods and if I walked straight ahead, I'll just walk deeper into more trees. But right in front of me is what I saw from the distance. It's long, slender figure gives it a mystifying grace. It's brown color I've never seen before and the pointy head glimmers in the sudden sunlight. Like a beacon, destined for me to see. It's an arrow.
I look at it for a few seconds. My hand must have developed a mind of it's own because before I realize, I'm reaching out to touch it. It looks so beautiful, I need to touch it. To see if it's real. But before I lay a finger on it, it starts to move. I pull my hand away and move back from it, not because I was scared, but because it was unexpected. Objects don't move on their own accord, do they?
It starts to move clock wise, slowly and gracefully. Almost as if it's about to start a dance. It does a full circle around before it does another but this new one has more speed. It's still slow but it's more faster than the first one. Again, a full circle and a new one starts. Again, faster than the previous ones. I keep looking at it until it spins faster than I've ever seen anything spin. I'm almost expecting it to take off off the ground like you see in cartoons. But it doesn't. It just keeps spinning and spinning and spinning. And spinning...
My eyes shoot open as I come out of my dream. I realize that I've been holding my breath in and I exhale deeply. The early morning light fills my room through my window. I grab my phone from my nightstand and look at the time. 6:37 AM. The same time I've been waking up ever since I started having this dream. My alarm used to go off at seven but thanks to me waking up early, I've found no use for it.
I lay my phone back on the nightstand and I just stare at the ceiling. Holy fucking hell, not this dream again? How many times am I gonna have this dream? Is this dream seriously trying to tell me something? What the hell is that spinning arrow? What the hell is this dream? The same questions I've been asking myself ever since I started having it more than a month ago.
At first I thought Senior Year was just finally getting to me. It was the first day of May and I had less than a month to go before I graduated. Me and my brother from another mother, Scott had just finished our essays for Siddhartha - me writing about water and how it was being used as a symbol and Scott's was more like a summary of the book, which he didn't even read - and we both decided to celebrate by drinking a little Nuvo. Don't even ask me how Scott got his hands on it but he did. "Come on dude, just a little. We deserve it." Of course with me being the more responsible one out of the two - and I use that term really loosely cause once I left the house with the stove on - I knew it was a bad idea.
"Fine," I said after I caved in, not even sure why. "One glass and that's it." If only I had known how we were gonna bullshit ourselves. We nearly drained the whole bottle and the night ended with Scott passed out on my floor. How I made it to my bed is a miracle and how I remembered to leave out Scott's extra change of clothes is beyond me (the first time we got drunk, he passed out and pissed his pants, which is why ever since, then he's kept an extra change of clothes at my house).
Then I had the dream. I remember the way I felt in the dream because now, I don't feel the same emotions I felt the first time. I was scared, thinking how in the hell I had made it to the woods. Scared that something was gonna happen and an animal was going to attack me. I expected to see a snake surprise me from the trees and give me the bite of death. I would start convulsing, reacting from the venom that had entered my body and as it ultimately killed me.
I was expecting a mountain lion to come up from behind me and attack me. Even though I read that a mountain lion won't attack you unless it's provoked, I figured that anything that was a giant cat and related to lions, I didn't want anywhere near me. Unless it was small like Simba, then I probably wouldn't be so scared. But yeah, I thought a mountain lion was going to attack and crawl at me and rip my face to shreds.
But nothing. Nothing bad happened to me. All that happened was that I started walking to God knows where. I walked the now familiar path, stopped because of my aching feet, walked to the meadow until I finally saw the arrow. Spinning slow at first until it finally picked up speed, going so fast and me waking up and never seeing where it stops.
When I woke up the next morning, I was in a cold sweat and I was laying at the foot of the bed. Scott hadn't moved from the same position he passed out in - and good news for him, he didn't piss himself again - which was weird to me because at the rate of my dream, I would have figured that I would have made some noises in my sleep, probably waking him up. But no, no evidence to prove he didn't even move an inch.
What the hell was that all about? I thought to myself as I lay back down on my bed. Like I've said, I've never thought twice about my dreams but this one was almost like a kid in the back of my brain screaming my name that I just couldn't not think about it. I hadn't come up with a conclusion of what the meaning could be when Scott finally rose from the dead.
"Welcome back to the world of the living McCall." I hadn't even thought about calling Scott by his last name, which the only person who even calls him that is Dick R' Us himself, Jackson Whittemore.
Scott didn't have to get off the floor before I realized that he was gonna have it the worst, looking like his brain was about to break out of his skull. Strangely for me though, I had woken up with not even the slightest bit of pain. I didn't even feel a tingle around my head. But I couldn't think about the dream then cause I had Scott to deal with.
However, the dream kept getting stronger and more life like. One time, I swear I felt the wind. In the dream when I'm sitting down next to the tree, and that gust of wind picks up. Before I had never felt it. I only knew it was wind because I could hear it move past me. But when I had the dream that particular night, I swear I felt like someone was touching my face and tilting my head to an angle where I could see the arrow. And that's how it's always been night after night.
But today, I refuse to let this dream get the better of me. Hell no, I will not stand for it. Today isn't just any other day, today only happens once in someone's life. Today is Graduation. Do you even get this, I'm graduating High School. FINALLY! I am done! Somehow, I managed to pull of a 3.5. Me, Stiles Stilinski, pulled off a 3.5. I don't even know how that was possible. I did what I've always been doing since School started. Hung out with Scott, played video games, messed around on the internet and even found this cool blogging website.
Between all of that, I thought I was just going to have to repeat Senior Year cause my case of Senioritis kicked in during the summer. All of the fucks I had to give were gone out the window. But Dad did say that I was starting to apply myself more and more this year than I had in any other year.
Yeah, that's all good but if only I had applied myself sooner, like maybe in Freshman Year. It wasn't even till the beginning of the school year that I came up with the conclusion that I actually did wanna go to college. Don't get me wrong, College has always been in my sight but I always thought I was gonna go, study something that I don't even like like Law or Marine Biology and then live my life according to whatever was handed to me. It wasn't even until this year that I figured out that I didn't wanna study all of that but I actually wanted to major in English.
English I was good at. It was the only class in school that I actually enjoyed and I had always managed to pull off either an A- or B+ whenever I got my Progress Report in the mail. Not only was it the class that I liked in school, I liked the readings; Siddhartha, The Great Gatsby, Kindred,and The Laramie Project. I even managed to like some of the Shakespeare plays that were forced upon us.
Not only that but I had also managed to like writing. I always loved it when teachers in Elementary and Middle School made us write a story. I remember in 8th Grade when my teacher made us write a short story, I had turned in a fifteen page story about a boy who is struck by lightning and develops psychic powers. Not only did I score a 100 out of the story but my English teacher put it up on the wall and that way the parents were able to read it when it was Back to School night. Not only that but I also kept a journal (never actually finished one, but that's another story) and those pages were filled with entries about my day, short stories that were either finished or unfinished, and other stuff that I wanted to write.
So if only I had known that I had wanted to do something that had to do with English when I was a Freshman, I probably would have applied myself in the beginning rather than find out what I had actually wanted to do this year. I never scored anything above a 2.5 my past three years in High School, which is still passing but not what colleges are looking for. That pretty much shot my dream of going to UC Berkeley in the face, so I never tried harder.
UC Berkeley was Mom's Alma Mater. Whenever she stayed home from work on the weekends or when I didn't have to go to school, she would be downstairs singing along to Etta James, Aretha Franklin, Donna Summer, or whatever classics she had playing while making breakfast (chocolate chip pancakes for me, omelets for her and Dad), wearing her long fitting blue Cal hoodie. Plus I had always loved to go to the campus and play in the front lawn of the DOE library while students studied under the shade of a tree and football jocks ran shirtless around me. I still went there a few times in the year, just to remember what it was like when I was a kid and didn't have any of the worries I had now. And when I still had Mom.
Grrrrr. My stomach puts a damper on my thinking as it gives out a low growl under the covers. That's my cue. I hop out of bed and look out the window. The neighborhood is it's usually boring self this time in the morning. I see a few people doing their morning run with their dogs and a few cars pass by slowly, their drivers on their way to whatever jobs they have. My phone buzzes from my nightstand filled with Mockingjay, the last book of The Hunger Games series, papers from school, and my tickets to Graduation. They insisted on giving each student ten tickets to this year's ceremony. They shouldn't have bothered on giving me ten, I only need one. Okay two.
Anyway I check my phone and see a text from Scott. Hey, wake up Genim! I'm right outside.
Really, Scott really? I text him the first thing that pops into my mind. I hate you so much right now. I don't want you here, go home.
Less than ten seconds later, I get another text. Stop being a bitch and let me in. I swear he has that one saved on his phone. He always sends that text in under ten seconds while he takes literally a minute to text me back. Just as I'm planning a comeback, I hear a rock being thrown at my window. "Really Scott, really?" I say as I walk over to my window and open it. There he is, wearing a red and grey long sleeved shirt. He must have been at the outside patio when I first looked out.
"Let me in Genim!"
"Whatever," I say as I roll my eyes and back away from the window. I look for a pair of sweats, put them on in a hurry before heading downstairs and open the door for Scott. "What has you in such a great mood that you decided to call me by my first name?"
"Don't you get it Genim, we are officially done!"
"Dude, call me that again and see if I won't kick you in the nuts."
"Whatever you say Gem-" he didn't even finish my name before I lifted my foot up and aimed for his McCalls. But he knew it was coming and I was only able to hit him on his knee. Not gonna lie, doing that without shoes in my bare feet may not have been such a good idea. I don't let the pain show though. If he did notice that it hurt me, he didn't show it as he was too busy laughing obviously pleased with himself. "Alright Stiles, I'm done."
"Thank you," I say as I walk away from the living room and enter the kitchen. The kitchen has been spotless since I cleaned last night but with Scott here, my hard work would have been for nothing. Tear. "Have you eaten anything?" I ask as I run my hand through my buzz cut. I had cut it a few weeks ago and still, it was as short as I liked it.
"Nope. What are you planning on making?"
I eyed him as I made a show of walking over to the fridge and opening it. "Yeah because if it isn't your Mom, it's Cinder-Stiles that has to feed you." I chucked a bit at my own joke and I could just see Scott rolling his eyes at me. I look over the contents of the fridge and see that there are avocados, eggs and bacon, just begging me to be cooked. "In the mood for bacon avocado omelets?"
20 minutes later, we're sitting down on the bar, finishing up our breakfast. Egg shells, a bag of raw bacon and avocado stones are laid out near the sink. I pick up my glass of orange juice and drink as Scott starts talking. "So where's your Dad?"
"He's working for a few hours at the station so he can have the night off. I don't know what he's planning on doing for tonight but I don't know if I like it."
"Maybe he's just planning on taking you out to dinner or something. Or maybe he's just gonna give you some money and we'll hit up Chipotle later."
"Yum, Mexican," I say before I take a swing out of my juice. Dad has been secretive lately and I don't do well with secrets. Not since when he and Mom kept the biggest secret from me when she was sick. "You know how I am," I say just to make myself sound like I couldn't help it.
"Have you talked to Lydia today?" Scott says in a school girl voice, but I can't tell him that. The only reason he's asking about Lydia in the first place to see if he can get any info about Alison Argent. Since Alison moved about a year ago to Oakland and Lydia being Lydia, she and Alison became friends her first day at school. You would think that a guy would have made a move on a girl he's liked for more than a year but nope, not Scott McCall.
"No Scott, I have no new Alison notification," I tell him in an annoyed voice. "You need to make a move, like now. The girl is moving to New York in July, you have a month left."
"Exactly, what's the point in making a move then? I had my chance and I didn't take it."
"You've still got some time left. I'm not saying fall in love with the girl or anything-" I stop myself right there. This is Scott and Alison we're talking about. Scott has already been in love with Alison. Choose your words carefully Stilinski. "What I'm trying to say is, who cares if it doesn't work out or not. I'm just trying to say do something about it because if you don't, you're going to ask yourself what if you did something and what could have happened. And that fucking sucks."
Scott looks at me for a second before going back to his omelet. "What are you, a philosopher now?"
"No," I end up saying quickly. "I'm just telling you the truth." And I am. I've heard my share of people telling me about regrets that could have easily been avoided. They mostly come from my dad when he's had a really long day at work and his only companion for the night is a bottle of Jack Daniel's. He does it every once in awhile but when he's drunk, I can't see it. Something about seeing him drunk just makes a pit in my stomach and my throat starts to develop knots. He didn't used to drink. He started just after Mom passed.
Scott's voice brings me back to the world of the living and derails my trip down Memory Lane. "So has she? Lydia, I mean."
Aw my good friend, Ms. Lydia Martin. The girl who I've known since I was in diapers; the girl who always came over to my house whenever her Mom was busy working and shared her play dough with me. And yes, I will go far and admit that I even played Barbies with her. Yeah, I did usually play with Ken but I was playing with dolls nevertheless. The girl who went on to become not only the smartest girl in our class but also the most beautiful. I probably would have been one of the guys who worshipped her every move, like Jackson Whittemore but I just couldn't. I practically grew up with that girl, she's like my sister. "Nah. She's probably busy going over her speech. If I know her like I'm pretty positive I do, she wants to memorize the whole thing to the point where she won't even need the paper with her." And knowing her, she'll probably nail it.
"See. You're over here telling me to make a move with Alison, yet you're here and you can't even-"
I decided to cut him off right there. "How many times do I have to tell you, I don't like Lydia like that. I could never like her like that! She's my sister, it's like I'll be committing incest!" I have this conversation with Scotty boy once every month. But it's always coming up more and more, and always when Alison is mentioned. Freaking girls! See like this is one of those times when I wish I could just go back to being a little kid. How I had it easy back then; damn me for all the times I said I wanted to grow up.
Scott looks away from me straight ahead and a smile spreads over his face like he's about to tell me something he finds hilarious. Hilarious to him but stupid to me. "I'm just saying," he pauses for a second before continuing, "It takes two to tango."
"That's it, I'm done with you." I get up from my bar stool, pick up both mine and his plate, place them in the sink and rinse them off. "We are officially over." I turn the water off and give him an annoyed look before leaving the kitchen.
I start heading up the stairs before I hear the sound of a bar stool scoot back and feet rushing. "Stiles, you're not really pissed off are you?" Check and mate.
Stupid gown for being so fucking long. It's way past my feet, covering my shoes and I'll have no other choice but to pick it up so my feet won't trip over it as I'm walking. Why didn't I try it on when I first got it last week and saved myself all of this trouble? I could have gotten a proper fitting gown if I did. The Skyline gym was filled with all 353 of the graduating Senior class, all talking to their friends and putting on their caps and gowns. Thank God, I'm so out of here. "Well, the good news is at least we'll be sitting down for two and a half hours so you won't be on your feet for long," Scott says as he fixes his cap. I don't know if Scott meant to say long to piss me off, but I decide to let it go.
"No. No good news bro. We still have to walk from the gym to the football field, not to mention that I have to walk that stage to get my diploma. It'll be a fucking miracle if I can walk off that stage without falling and looking like a completely ass." Seriously, there's not one thing Skyline High School has done right for me in all my four years of being here. Freshman Year, they put me in Spanish instead of French (which ended up being somewhat like a miracle for me, considering the Fruitvale district is like stepping into Little Mexico and it definitely came in handy but still), I took Dance class instead of regular PE my Sophomore Year and there was nothing I could do about it considering you only need two years of PE to get out of here (So now, I know how to salsa dance instead of just dancing to Dubstep). And to top it all of, they fucked up my schedule the last two years and it took my Dad coming up here just after the night shift at the station - so you know the man's going to be pissed - and him practically threatening the Vice Principal before my schedule got back to the way I wanted. Now they couldn't order me the right size gown. I'm starting to suspect that this could in fact be revenge for that incident. But any further theories I could develop were thrown out the window when Lydia came up and hug me from my left side.
Whenever Lydia hugs me to surprise me, I have the wind knocked right out of me. One time, she rushed right into me in front of the school from behind that I needed to sit down for a minute and remember how to breathe again. She swore that that was the last time that she would attack me from behind. Now she's gone onto attacking me from my sides, hoping that it would be such a surprise since I might have seen out of the corner of my eyes. But so far, it hasn't worked. "Okay, okay Lids," I say to calm her (and myself) down.
"Can you believe it, we're finally getting out of this hellhole. I have been waiting for this since the first day of Freshman Year." She detaches herself from my body and turns to Scott. "Hey Scott," she says in a genuine smile. Then she turns her heart shaped face and looks at me with that same smile that I've been seeing for the past seventeen years of my life. Her beautiful smile that can make you believe that, as soon as you look at it, everything is going to be okay. She removes a strain of her copper red brownish hair, that she has made curly just for this occasion and tucks it behind her ear before speaking again with her little pink lips. "So you're both coming to my party tomorrow right?"
"Of course," I say for what is probably the trillionth time since she first spoke about it. One last hurrah for those of us who are going out of state and a rare few of us, out of the country for college. "Who can miss or forget the famous Lydia Martin Graduation party that she has been speaking of for the past four months?"
"Shut up," she says as she lightly punches my shoulder and I chuckle a bit. I love messing with her. "You out of all people should be there. Because you, like me, are the Guest of Honor."
What? Me? I'm- I'm what now? My tongue and mouth must have developed a mind of their own because I'm saying the words that are being spoken in my head. "I'm-I'm what now? When did I agree to this? Lids, do you hate me or something? I promise I'll go shopping with you for the whole summer. Come on Lids-"
But she suddenly cuts me off. "Stiles, you are the Guest of Honor because you are the Guest of Honor. You finally figured out what you wanna do in your life. I mean yeah, it's taken you all of four of your High School years to figure that out but come on. You went from being a 2.0 student to having a 3.5. You did so much better this year, you're most improved in my book. You're going to a J.C. and you're going to go join me at UC Berkeley when you finish up. Not to mention, I love you."
This is why I love Lydia. She's always looking at the bright side of things; already positive that I'm going to be joining her at UC Berkeley. Like I said, she's one of those people who could make you believe in anything. When I was five and convinced that the Boogeyman was living under my bed, it was her who slept over one night and laid in my bed with me. I would freak out at any noise I would hear and she would tell me otherwise that it wasn't the Boogeyman. And when I heard about Bloody Mary, Lydia was the one who looked into the mirror and said the name three times. And obviously she's still breathing.
And it was Lydia who, along with Scott, helped me out when I needed her the most; when Mom passed. I had just turned ten and she passed a month afterwards. Cancer is the scariest thing I've ever seen. One minute, a loved one is completely healthy and the next you're watching them deteriorate right before your eyes. Until they're a shell of their former selves, fragile as glass. They are already gone, the person with you is just what remains of them.
When Mom passed, I started having these panic attacks. They would happen once a day and on some rare occasion, twice a day. I can only describe it as feeling like my chest was collapsing onto me or having a weight thrown onto you when you're laying down and you can't move or breathe. The room would get too bright and in response I would shut my eyes but that would only make it worse, since I hated the dark. And then there was the shaking that no matter what, I couldn't stop once it started.
One time Lydia was over at my house. It was two weeks after the funeral and the panic attacks had started not a week after. She had come over to watch a movie and just be the friend that I needed at the moment. Scott had been at school while Lydia had missed the day and walked the mile and a half from the Elementary School to get to my house. We were watching Pocahontas which was one of my favorite Disney movies that I used to watch (I still watch it whenever I've had a rough day) in the living room. Sometimes Mom would watch with me and would sing Colors of the Wind like she was starring in a musical. I would just sit back and watch like the superstar that she was.
Anyway the song had just started playing in the film. When Mom was still alive, she would sometimes surprise me and start singing when I was sitting down in the couch in the living room. The movie had actually taken my mind off of what had happened and we were both sitting there and I was expecting to hear my mom singing. But nothing happened. Her voice didn't fill the room like it used to and I didn't watch her like I was at a concert. Finally I had remembered what happened. She's gone, I thought.
The tears had started falling not a second after. They blurred my vision, so I shut my eyes and everything turned dark. It was starting again, and I couldn't control it. My body wasn't mine at that point; I was shaking and I couldn't get my muscles to move as much as I tried to make them. In my head all I was thinking was, Why did you leave me Mom? Why did you leave me here alone? Did you not love me anymore, is that what happened? I wish I was never born so I would never feel this. I wish you would have died the second I was born so I could have never had a mom and never know this pain. The cruelty of the last thought hurt me the most even though I never wished it was true. I was started sobbing and the shaking got worse.
"Stiles! Oh my God, you're having an attack. You're having an attack! I'm gonna call 911!" I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe. My lungs were not taking in any air. The weight has pressed itself against my chest. I was suffocating. My eyes wouldn't open, my vision was dark. I got even more scared but I didn't care. I'm going to die, I thought. I'm going to die, I'm going to die. I'm coming Mom. From out of nowhere, Lydia came back from making the call, sat down on the couch again and tried to get me to move from the fetal position I had gotten into.
"Stiles, Stiles. I called 911 and your Dad is coming. I need you to help me here." She had gotten a hold of my head and moved me to the point of where I was laying down on the couch. "Come on Stiles. I need you to take deep breaths. Just like I'm doing, deep breaths now. Come on Stiles, I can't help you if you don't help me out here." I tried to mimic her. One breath, two breaths, three breaths. "Yes, just like that. Come on Stiles, you're going to be okay. You're going to be okay Stiles, I swear." The tightness in my chest started to loosen up and I started to take in even more.
"Where is he? Stiles!" Dad's voice filled the room. "I'm here Son, I'm here." More voices filled the room I didn't recognize and soon, I had an oxygen mask on my face. I tried to push it away. They couldn't see that I was just starting to breathe again and putting that thing over my face was only going to make it worse. Even Dad's voice couldn't convince me that the mask was going to help me. "They're just trying to help you Stiles. You have to let them help you." Still I moved my head whenever I felt the thing come near me and pushed it away.
But it was Lydia's voice that got me to stop and let them put the mask on me. I felt a hand grab mine and squeeze it. "Stiles, I promise you, they just want to help you. You're only making it worse. Please let them help you and I swear, everything's gonna be fine." At the time, I didn't know if I stopped moving because I had finally given up and let them do whatever it is that they wanted to do with me, or if because I actually believed her. Either way, my body listened and soon, the mask was on my face.
Finally after what felt like hours, but were really just minutes, I took one deep breath and then another. The tightness on my chest loosened up even more, I slowly opened my eyes and the dizziness of the room was fading. I had loosen my grip around the hand that was holding me and looked to see that it was Lydia's. After everything that happened then up to this point, it has always been Lydia.
And now here she was, already positive that I was going to get into UC Berkeley. It doesn't matter what my grades in Community College were going to be because everything turned out the way Lydia wanted them to. And the Universe better make sure that I got into UC Berkeley because it did not want to piss off Lydia Martin. So I just decide to go along with her. "Whatever you say Lids. Whatever you say."
"Of course whatever I say. And it will be true because both of you," she points to me and Scott and continues, "know that I successfully predicted Obama and Amy Winehouse. And I still think Lindsay Lohan is going to pull her shit together."
"Oh, I think you're hoping on that last one," Scott says and I can't help but chuckle a bit.
"Just you wait when she rises from the ashes like the phoenix we all know her to be." That last comment didn't come from me, Scott nor Lydia. But by the one and only Alison Argent who had shown up behind Scott. "What's up you guys?" She says. Oh my God Scott is practically already drooling and I can't help but roll my eyes. Wait, did someone see that? No, whatever let them see not like I'm gonna see them again.
We talk for a good ten minutes (well me, Alison and Lydia talked, Scott just drooled) before we are all called to line up. "Seniors, as you all know this is a happy day for not just you but for all of the staff and your teachers as well. You have made us and your family proud by getting to this point. And even if this is the last time you will see some of your classmates, just know you are all united as the Class of 2012. Happy graduation." The room suddenly bursts into applause at the principal's announcement and some even have tears in their eyes. The applause slowly dies down as we are then ordered into line. "Everyone in positions please. And in the words of RuPaul, Good luck and don't fuck it up." First of all, two things go off in my head. First, the Principal is a RuPaul fan. And second, that is our cue.
My row is currently lined up at the stairs leading to the stage outside at the Skyline football field. The early evening air is blowing through and my tassel starts to move. Oh no, you don't. I grab it and put it back in it's rightful position. So far, my gown hasn't given me any stupid problems but it could be waiting to save it's tricks when it's my turn to walk the stage. I tried to look for Dad out in the bleachers but so far I haven't succeed. I know he's out there, he brought me here. I've already spotted Mrs. Martin, Scott's Mom and the Whittemores.
The Argents seem to be like royalty in the front row, seeming as if everyone isn't bothering them. There's a woman with a red pixie cut who I assume to be Alison's mom and to her side is her husband. Next to the man who I assume to be Alison's Dad is a younger looking woman. She could be Alison's much older sister, since she seems too old to be a student. Late twenties or early thirties. And next to her seems to be a much older man with a bald head except for white hair on each side of his head. I'm assuming that's her Grandfather.
I try to look away but something catches my eye. Or should I say, someone. It's a guy and he's far off near the gym. He's not in a cap or gown, so he can't be a student. But I study him. Or try, I should say. As from where I'm standing I can tell he has short dark hair, and he's wearing jeans and a black leather jacket. I squint my eyes to try and get a better look at him. I'm not sure but I think he catches me looking at him. He doesn't move as he's covering his hands in his pockets, so he either knows he's being watched and is keeping his glaze on me or... I don't know but he's there.
"Stiles Stilinski." My name is called and that's enough to snap me back to reality. Wait, where am I? People looking up at me, applauding; my classmates in red gowns, I'm in the football field. Oh yeah, Graduation. I walk up to the stage and once I reach it, I try to find the guy again. I look at where he was standing and he's not there anymore. Okay, what? Was I just imagining this or something? I look back out at the bleachers and I finally see Dad. He's cheering with a camera in his hand, either recording this or taking pictures. I see Mama McCall clapping as well and I can't help but smile. I walk to the front of the stage, shake hands with the principal and take my diploma cover with the other.
Before I even think about or even second guess it, something starts building inside of me. "Yes!" I shout and raise my hands in the air. Some people in the crowd scream and applaud even harder, bouncing off of my energy. Holy fucking hell, did that feel good! I can't believe I'm done. I'm officially done. Oh thank you to every single God in the world. I am done! I go back to wait with my other classmates and some of them pat my back. I smile back at them. Not gonna lie, I will miss this place.
Wait, remember what you were just looking at a second ago. I quickly turn around and look back at the gym. And there he is again. This time his face isn't facing the stage but looking down. At me. I turn back around in record time, like I was caught masturbating and I don't want people to look at me. Crazy simile, I know but that's really what I can compare it to. Okay, look again. One more time, if he's there, I'm not imagining shit. Yeah, that's what I'll do. I take a deep breath and turn back around.
Oh crap.