I sat uncomfortably on the hard, metal chair, the sun beating down on me, causing beads of sweat to gather at the base of my neck. I tried to ignore the perspiration that was slowly creeping down my back as I shifted in my chair, careful not to disturb the awkward, square cardboard cap resting on my blond hair. The sun was sweltering and the red polyester gown I was wearing was not helping matters. I shifted again, this time uncrossing my legs to air out the pools of sweat that were starting to gather there.

Today was my graduation from Hearst College. I tried to listen as the C-list celebrity, acquired by the dean in typical status-crazed California fashion, droned on and on about the "beginning of our futures" and "the road less traveled." It was all so cliché and extremely boring. Truthfully, I wouldn't even be here if my dad hadn't insisted on it. He just had to see his baby girl walk across the makeshift stage and receive the diploma she may never really use. After all, I already knew what I was good at. And everything I needed to know I learned from someone much wiser than any of my criminology professors.

I decided to major in criminology, naturally. I figured since I seemed to have an affinity for attracting trouble, that I should just embrace my strengths and run with it. Even after my summer spent as an intern with the FBI, turned out to not be everything I dreamed it would be. The FBI wants everything done by the book, with every "i" dotted and every "t" crossed. It's not like I wanted to break the law, but sometimes there just wasn't time to make sure everything was done properly; sometimes you had to follow your instincts. So after one too many of my "instincts", I found myself on probation and regulated to a desk job. Not exactly how I pictured my killer FBI internship.

When I returned to Neptune, I was disillusioned, frustrated and, I admit, in a bit of a funk. What was I going to do now that the FBI was no longer in the picture? The FBI had been my goal since the moment I discovered I had a real talent for tracking down the truth and making the enemy pay. It was the one bright spot I could see after Lily's murder; it had opened a door I had never considered before. And I was ready to dive in headfirst. With the door now slammed and firmly locked, I wasn't sure where to go next. It didn't take long though for me to find my answer.

About a week after I got back from Virginia, while I still wallowing in my self-pity, I received a call from none other Dick Casablancas. I should have known something was up when the first thing Dick asked me was how the internship went. Dick and I were never what you would call friends; more like two people who tolerated each other sometimes because of a certain someone we had in common. Dick was not one for small talk and I knew he must be desperate if he was calling to ask me for help.

I was surprised that when he finally got around to the point of the call, Dick didn't want to bail him out of trouble. It turns out he had found a heart over the summer and had met the girl of his dreams. The only problem: the girl had a boyfriend. Dick wanted me to get the dirt to break them up. Matchmaking wasn't normally my gig, but since my FBI dreams were dead I figured I didn't have much to lose.

"Who's the girl?" I asked Dick tentatively, still weary about helping my sometimes enemy.

"Well, see Ronnie, that's the thing. It's a girl you already know; a girl we've both known since high school," Dick said slowly. He seemed nervous, like this was just as weird for him as it was for me.

"No way am I helping you get back together with Madison. Completely out of the question," I said firmly, with more than a touch of anger in my voice. I wished I didn't let the mere thought of Madison infuriate me.

Dick grimaced. "Ronnie, it's not Madison. It's Mac."

Silence filled the air. Dick and Mac? I struggled to picture it. It was impossible.

"Dick, are you kidding me? Is this all some ploy to embarrass Mac? If it is I swear I will make you pay."

"NO," Dick shrieked. "It isn't like that at all. I know it sounds crazy. I can't believe it either. I will be the first to admit that I never looked twice at her in high school, except to ridicule her while she was dating Beav…..I mean Cassidy.

"But I got to know her a little better while Logan was dating Parker. Amazingly, she doesn't put up with my crap and even more amazing is I like it. It is surprisingly liberating to have a girl tell you the truth, no holds barred, instead of flipping her hair and giggling just to get closer to your bank account.

"Please Ronnie," Dick pleaded. "I really want a shot with Mac, but as long as Max is around I don't have a chance."

I thought about it for a moment. It still didn't make sense, but Dick sounded sincere. And honestly, I was never a big fan of Max. Something about him just screamed wrong to me.

'Ok Dick," I relented. "I'll see what I can do. But let me remind you, if this works and you do anything to hurt Mac, I will hurt you."

It wasn't hard to find Max and realize that he didn't only cheat on tests; he cheated on his girlfriends too. I spent one afternoon following Max as he made "business trips" as Mac described them. He only made one stop. It was Wendy's house. Now, I was under the impression that Wendy had left Max to go back to making the big money on the streets. However, it looked like things had changed. I peeked inside the window and saw a lot more than the exchanging of term papers and mid-term exams. I snapped a quick photo and walked away, shaking my head in disgust.

Deciding how to tell Mac was a different story. This was the hardest part of the job; telling people things they might not want to hear. And what explanation would I give Mac for spying on her boyfriend.

While I was contemplating my next move, I heard a knock on my door. I went to answer and I see none other than Mac staring back at me.

"Welcome back," she said. "I need your help."

"Nice to see you too," I said with a smile on my face. Mac never was one for small talk either.

"I can't believe I am about to tell you this, but you are the only one who can help," Mac said nervously, as she paced the room in front of me.

"I like….. Dick. Dick Casablancas. I know when pigs fly, right. But it's true," Mac said laughing, as if she couldn't believe it herself.

"And I want to break up with Max and I need a reason. A reason more than Dick. You have to find something I can use as leverage." Mac was anxious now, almost pleading with me to help her.

I smiled to myself and then said, "Well this turned out to be a lot easier than I expected. I already have everything you need to initiate a successful break-up," I paused as I saw Mac's eye open wide in surprise.

"It seems Max isn't quite over Wendy. He spent a lot of time with her yesterday and they weren't cheating on tests," I said with a grin on my face now. It felt good to help my friend out, even if I didn't understand it.

Mac was speechless. Finally she sputtered "But, why, how did you know."

I simply smiled and said "Dick got to me first."

Realization struck and I watched a slow smile spread across her face. She looked at me one last time, and then turned around a bolted out the door, yelling a "Thanks Veronica" over her shoulder as the door was closing.

That was when I realized that I didn't need the FBI to tell me what I was good at. I already knew that. I was good at helping the good guys and punishing the bad ones. I had been doing it since my junior year of high school and why did I have to change now. I begin to look forward to a future as a bona fide Private Investigator; following in the footsteps of the person I admired most.

That was right before my sophomore year and now I looked around the lush, green football field through the rows and rows of chairs, my eyes scanning the crowd looking for my friends. I saw Wallace a few rows ahead of me, smirking at something our "noted keynote speaker" had just said and then turning to girlfriend Rose and whispering something in her ear.

Mac was at the other end of my row. The expression on her face probably mirrored mine: bored, annoyed and struggling to keep the sarcastic comments from passing through her lips. But I also saw the glimmer of a smile and I knew she was thinking about Dick.

I turned around and saw Parker two rows behind me. She wasn't paying a bit of attention to me. Instead she was looking down a wallet-sized photo she held in her hand. I knew without even seeing it that she was gazing at a photo of Piz.

It hadn't taken long for the two of them to get together after the cafeteria incident freshman year. Piz saw "the look" and took it upon himself to end it with me right then and there. He didn't even bother to sit down for lunch.

Once he caught my eye, and saw in my eyes what I wasn't able to say, he walked over to me, touched my shoulder and said "It was fun while it lasted Veronica. Have a great time on your internship." It was short and to the point. And I was still in such a daze that I merely nodded and turned back towards my table.

A few weeks later, while talking on the phone with Wallace, he mentioned that Piz and Parker had been spending a lot of time together, making puppy dog eyes at each other while lamenting about their failed relationships. It seems as though their unrequited love myself and Logan had turned out for the best. They were perfect for each other.

But no matter how long I looked, I didn't see the one person I really wanted to see. The person I wanted to be there more than anyone, except for my dad. Logan was nowhere to be found.

I don't know why I was surprised. Logan hadn't been around since the cafeteria incident. After he apologized to Piz he walked away and I hadn't seen him since then. I tried calling before I left for the FBI, but all I got were his stupid inspirational messages. It annoyed me and I decided that I would wait for him to call me. He never did.

When I got back to Neptune, I was too depressed to go see him. I didn't want to tell him that I failed. It was hard enough to tell my dad, and I just couldn't bear to face him too.

Once I realized that he was gone, I thought about trying to track him down. But I figured I must have pushed my luck too many times, and now I was getting what I deserved.

But even if I was getting a taste of my own medicine, I couldn't shake the sadness I felt that Logan wasn't there. He should be there. He should be walking across the stage, graduating and proving all the people who called him a slacker wrong, including my Dad. Including me.

I snapped to attention as I realized everyone around me was standing up. It was time to go get that diploma.

I followed the rest of my row to the stage set up in the middle of the football field. I stood patiently, making sure to pay close attention so I would know when my name was called. And finally I heard it, "Veronica Lianne Mars."

I smiled and walked across the stage, my hand reaching out to take my diploma from the dean. He shook my hand and wished me a hearty congratulations, but truthfully I don't think this dean had any idea who I was. Somehow I had managed to avoid spending any time in his office.

I heard my Dad hollering, his cheers full of pride reserved for his only daughter. I heard Mac, Wallace and Dick yelling for me. It reminded me of high school. Except, I didn't see Logan; looking at me with pride and admiration in his eyes. And I would be lying if that fact didn't make my heart sting a little.

I walked back to my seat, and tried to pay attention to the rest of the ceremony, cheering when my friends each received their diplomas. And then, finally, it was over.

I milled around the field, hugging my friends and wishing congrats. Then I started over to where I knew my father was waiting. I glanced down at my wrist to check the time, when suddenly I bumped into someone. I looked up to apologize, but no words came out. I continued to stare, shocked, my mouth dropping open in disbelief. Finally, words came, but all I could muster was a whispered name, afraid that if I spoke too loudly, he would vanish and I would wake up from my dream.

"Logan?"