Here we go! The beginning to another beginning. If you are a new reader, welcome! But if you have not read Life is Beautiful, I recommend you take a quick look at it before continuing on with its sequel :) It's a great read, I promise. Just so you're not confused or anything...it will be assumed you know what's going on :) I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think, I'm a little nervous, but in a good way.
You'll figure everything out as you go along. But basically: flashbacks are italics. The POV does switch from Ella's (our main protagonist) to third person. Anytime I switch BACK to Ella's POV, you'll see this: -x-x-x-EGS-x-x-x- which are Ella's initials in the break line.
Ready?
Things Don't Always Turn Out That Way
Prologue
June 8th, 2026
Now I'm just wondering why you think
that you can get to me with anything
seems like you'd know by now
When and how I get down
And with all that I've been through,
I'm still around
It's way too gorgeous a day to be stuck in school, was the only thought in my head above the music spilling in my ears. I try not to look out the window at the gorgeous blue sky because then it'll just depress me. Instead, I work ferociously through these embarrassingly easy worksheets while occasionally looking at the clock in front of me. Only 15 more minutes left in this Spanish class and last period is over. Only a few more weeks left and 8th Grade, middle school, is over. Holy crap.
Despite Michael Jackson's music blasting- so I don't have to hear the camaraderie of my classmates as they do everything other than their work- I hear my name being chanted by the whole class. I thought I was just imagining things until I felt somebody throw an eraser at my shoulder.
I pull my red ear bud out of my ear reluctantly and Michael Jackson's voice fades into a murmur. "Wait, what?"
My classmate Sheff, the one who threw the eraser, laughs. He always thought it amusing that I'm constantly listening to music. "You won!"
"Won what?"
Mr. Alvarez chuckles and kneels by my desk to tell me quietly. Today, he's wearing black trousers and a navy jacket with elbow suede patches. His hazel eyes sparkle just a little bit, and I think he's saying he's proud of me. "Ella, you won the vote for Student Speaker at Graduation."
My eyebrows raise and for a minute, I don't say a thing. I knew that students were asked to nominate one student to represent them and speak at Graduation (so not really a Valedictorian, but lets be real, you might as well call me that), but I completely forgot about it. I never thought I would actually be considered until Katie, Catherine, and Robbie found me in the hallway and told me they voted for me. A week or two later, I found out I was one of three candidates to speak. And now…I guess I won. "Oh, wow. Really?"
Mr. Alvarez shakes his head and laughs. I know exactly what he's thinking. "Don't look so surprised. You've always managed to shine in this mess." When all I gave him was a little smile, Mr. Alvarez looks at me until I meet his gaze. "Me entiendes?"
"Yes, I understand you."
Just after I turned six, my parents decided they wanted me to learn another language. Apparently a child can learn a new language faster and easier than an adult can. Also, according to my Dad, "Spanish was going to be the dominant language by 2050" so my parents did everything they could to make sure I learned Spanish as a child. They bought bi-lingual books, television programs, flashcards, anything they could think of. They had my babysitter, Maria, only speak Spanish to me until I was forced to respond, embarrass myself, and eventually learn it. Ever since then, I've been fascinated by the language and its surrounding culture. I took it upon myself to buy elementary level books (I was elated when I could read the first page of the Spanish version of Louis Sachar's Holes and understand almost everything) and of course, I listen to Spanish music. It's helped me so much with proper pronunciation of the words, among other things. Plus, I really enjoy listening to it.
"I thought our agreement was that you'd only speak Spanish to me in class," I tell Mr. Alvarez with a smile.
"I guess I slipped." He smiles and his eyes are sparkling. "Congratulations."
"Thanks. I'm going to miss you, Mr. A." I hand him the completed three worksheets he only gave me to do ten minutes ago. "I'm done with these."
Mr. A laughed and took the sheets from me. "Ella, I don't think my class will ever be the same without you."
"I'm sure you will be fine. When's Graduation again?"
"June 22nd."
I stare at him, blank faced. "That's in two weeks." I have to write and deliver an entire speech, in front of my teachers, classmates and their families, in 14 days. Ever since I fell in love with writing, I've treated it delicately. It's a process, and it takes me a while.
"If you need any help writing the speech or want an extra set of eyes looking it over, I'd be happy to do so. Just let me know."
Right then, the bell went off and students scrambled to pack up their things and get the hell out of class as fast as they could- something especially accelerated on Friday afternoons.
"Thanks." I slowly pack up my folder and books into my backpack. The class is just about empty. I've noticed that I'm always the last one to leave the classroom. I push up on my desk to stand, and cringe at the burn ripping through my hamstrings…like it always did when I sat for a long time. I slowly make my way over out of the desk without tripping, and skillfully swing my backpack over onto my shoulders. The weight is immediate and I bite back a curse. I seriously cannot wait until summer.
In my haste to leave the classroom, I forget something crucial. I spin back on my heels and head to the bookshelf next to the whiteboard. Sitting in the same spot, mocking me, are my crutches. Two surgeries later, and instead of a walker or a stroller, I've got these. We have had quite a long relationship- I think I got them when I was eight or nine. I still remember the exact moment I walked into my physical therapy session and Amy told me I had a delivery. The red forearm crutches were packed neatly away in a white box. I remember slipping my arms through the cuffs, gripping the grey handles with my palms, and walking back and forth in my living room; thinking I looked so cool and I could finally compare myself to that main character in Scarface. Well, that affection only lasted so long. Actually, I think it only lasted for about twenty minutes. Then I realized how incredibly irritating they were.
The crutches play two roles. The first is that they are my walking aides. They allow me to walk long distances and provide me stability and endurance. They are what I lean on when I wait in long lines, or for the light to change so I can cross the street. They allow me to speed along the sidewalk and let me feel capable and independent for once. They are what allow me to walk with Katie and Catherine to the movie theatre all by myself. And the best part? The crutches are my strategy to skip lines at the amusement park. People can judge me all they want- if they had plastic cuffs attached to their arms at all times, if they would never know what it was like to walk freely and without shackles, they would be telling a different story.
The second role for my crutches is that they are the most irritating little things I have to deal with everyday of my life. They are what give me blisters on the sides of my hands and thumbs at the end of the day. They are what prevent me from using all my muscles when I walk (since I'm putting weight on both my crutches and my legs) so I guess I'll always be weak in a way. They are the pain in the ass that stop me from buying a damn bottle of root beer at the convenience store because I can't carry the bottle from the fridge to the front counter because my hands are tied. They destroy my lunch, because every time I put a sandwich inside a zip-lock, which then goes in a plastic back, they slam against the crutches and then eventually, when it's lunchtime, all I've got is mush. Who the hell wants to eat that?
As I make my way through the school hallway, I feel like an aggressive driver. I'm in survival mode, on a mission to make it from point A to point B without getting knocked over. Trust me, it happens way more often than one would think. People are too caught up in conversation to notice that I'm trying to get by. Or they crowd in little groups in the middle of the hallway instead of moving TO THE SIDE so I can pass. Or sometimes a guy and a girl will do that stupid run and hug thing, and then walk backwards. Know what happens when they walk backwards? I fall over. I would rather not fall over. It's embarrassing. So, I have to be aggressive and practically shove my way through the halls. I gave up saying excuse me once seventh grade hit and I realized I didn't care if people gave me dirty looks.
"Mr. Dexter!" I'm almost near my locker when I spot my favorite teacher at this school, my Literatures in English teacher. I know Mr. A offered to help me, but this guy is what I had in mind. He turns when he hears his name. As always, he's got a book and a few file folders under his right arm.
Mr. Dexter smiles and waits for me to catch up to him. His hazel eyes are warm and friendly, and he cut his hair down to a red buzz. "Hey! I heard you won for Student Speaker. That's awesome." Not only did Mr. Dexter fuel my literary horizons, not only did he teach me about literature's Anti-Hero, not only was he fond of my paper on All Quiet on the Western Front…he was the one who convinced me that it was worth it to become a writer. He just doesn't know it yet.
I smile, and then I feel shy like I always do when people compliment me. "Thanks. I was wondering if you could-eventually-read my speech? When I write it, I mean. Even though I have no idea how to write one of these things." I'm doing the automatic slouch down on my crutches when I feel pain on the bottom of my feet- something that always happen when I'm standing in one spot for too long. And yes, too long could mean just five minutes.
Mr. Dexter smiles behind his glasses. "Yeah, absolutely. I'd be happy to. Just shoot me an email when you've got something for me to look at." He playfully hits my shoulder with his book. "I've got to run- Friday staff meeting. Congrats again. Have a great weekend!" As quickly as I'd found him, Mr. Dexter faded among the crowd.
I turn to face my blue locker. The crutches erupt into symphony as they knock against the locker and prevent me from lifting my arms. I breathe a loud sigh even though there aren't many around to hear me, and harshly remove the crutches from my arm. They bang against the wall but remain unharmed- they're practically indestructible. I've dropped them down stairs, against concrete, in the street, and nothing. As hard as I've tried, I literally can't get rid of them.
For a few seconds I feel liberated. Luckily my locker opens easily today, but the same can't be said for taking off my backpack. The weight bears on me and the pain arrives. Of course it does.
I don't notice Katie head towards me in the hallway at a running start until she kisses me (enthusiastically, as always) on the cheek. "I knew you'd win! Congrats smarty pants."
"Thanks," I say, a little side-swept. "I didn't think I would win."
Katie rolls her eyes. She helps me with taking off my backpack by slowly taking one strap off my shoulder, and then making sure I'm stable on my feet before removing the other one. "Please." She lifts my red backpack into her hands and unzips it while at the same time, holds it in her grasp while I empty stuff out. A part of me watches her and wonders when we grew up. Sometimes I still think of us as the pair of kids drawing in her backyard. Now we're older, and we're maturing. Katie's hair got longer and she's tall. Her hair reaches past her shoulders and her teal green eyes sparkle. Most days, she's still naïve Katie. But the rest of the days, I just wonder when the hell we left our five-year-old selves behind.
"What are we doing?" Catherine's voice radiates from behind us. "I have to go run and pick up my brother from school." Catherine puts her arm playfully over Katie's shoulder.
I swing my red backpack onto my shoulder again. "I thought he takes the school bus home."
"Not today. Dentist appointment."
"Ella won the vote for Student Speaker!" Katie revealed, an excited smile on her face as she helps put the strap on my other shoulder and grabs the crutches. Her phone goes off, and as she goes to answer, she rolls her eyes. "Hi mother," she answers emphatically. "I know, I'm helping Ella with her stuff….it will take me ten minutes!...OK, I'm leaving right now, God." Katie hangs up the phone angrily. "I swear my mom needs to move to bloody China."
Catherine and I laugh. "That's nice."
"I have to run before she grounds me for something stupid again," Katie says. She blows us both kisses and heads for the other end of the hallway. "See you guys later. Ella, I'll call you."
"Okay. Bye!" I call after her. I turn to face Catherine and notice the look on her face. "What?"
"My parents decided to send me to Westover."
"…Oh. But that means we won't be going to high school together," I reiterate plainly.
"Yeah, that's exactly what it means. But the school's amazing and I got a great scholarship."
"I know." I don't say anything for a second and smile softly. "What am I going to do without my best friend?"
I met Catherine McMillan when I was eight years old. One of the best teachers I'd ever had sat Catherine next to me in class, and the rest was effortless. I'd realized quickly that Catherine and I were essentially the same person: wonderfully sarcastic, smart, witty…good-hearted. She's pretty much my other half, my sister, my partner in crime. She's the person I call when I'm pissed at my parents, pissed at myself, pissed at the world. She's the person I share really strange inside jokes with, she's one person I see being in my life forever. She's my person.
"We still live three blocks away from each other," Catherine answered in that way of hers. "I hate to break it to you, but since grade school we've all pretty much gone our separate ways."
"…Shut up," was my only answer. Catherine shakes her head and walks me to the entrance of the school, where she helps me down the obnoxious stairs and waits until my mom pulls up in the car, where she give me a hug and tells me she'll see me tomorrow, probably, most likely.
I walk slowly to my mom's Mercury Comet. She wears the same big smile she does when she sees me, and gets out of the car to help me with this damn backpack. "Hi baby," she greets, kissing my forehead.
"Hi," I answer softly, suddenly out of breath and worn. The strain from the bag has reached the joints in my knees. They are burning. I remove the crutches from my arm and throw them carelessly into the backseat, letting my mom take the bag off my
shoulders.
"God, what do you have in here?" she exclaims as she lugs the heavy bag onto the backseat as I climb into the front.
I don't answer since my answer is always the same. My bag is full of notebooks, books, and folders. Everything it takes to get straight A's is in my backpack. I watch my mom climb behind the wheel of her car and put on her seatbelt.
"How was your day?"
Another question I'm reluctant to answer. I'm trying to resist telling her about winning Student Speaker for reasons that only I know. I just want to see her face when I step up to the podium. Suddenly I can't look my mom in the eye, because if I do, she will know I'm keeping something from her. See, I can never, everlie to my mother. She knows I'm lying before the lie leaves my lips. It's irritating and comforting at the same time. "Good." I shut my mouth before anything else escapes. I pretty much tell her everything, so it's almost unnatural not to.
Predictably, I can feel my mom's eyes burning into me and I try not to meet her gaze because it will fall apart. I'll start laughing and ruin it. "What?" she asks suspiciously, cautiously even.
"Nothing." I say quickly. I reach forward and turn on the radio, hoping the music will catch her attention like it always does.
"Hey! Don't touch my radio." My mom protests, playfully swatting my hand away. She changes the track and turns up the volume. "Listen, I'm going to have to take you to Aunt Haley's for a little bit. I ran into something at work."
"Seriously? Can't you just take me home? I'm exhausted. I got no sleep last night."
"No, you're not staying alone."
"Where's Dad?"
"He's at the Auto Shop."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Lucas coughed up yet another bout of dirt and grime and decided the five hours he'd spent working in the shop had been enough. He was constantly training new mechanics and he realized quickly that there were few who could do the job correctly like he could. After he washed his face with cold water in the bathroom, Lucas retreated to his office in the back of the shop. When the blinds were pulled up, he could watch his employees and make sure they were doing what they were supposed to be doing. A song by Santana faded into a dull throb, and it gave Lucas the quiet he needed to go over numbers the shop brought in over the last month.
"Yo, Luke!"
Or not. Lucas sighed and ran his hand over his face. He could spot Skills Taylor from miles away. He wore the same smug-slightly arrogant- grin on his face, and walked the same walk wherever he went.
-x-
"Luke!" Skills walked through the doorway of the Service and Repair Auto Shop. The place was empty except for the occasional run down car and a Santana tune in the background. Skills looked about for any sign of his friend, with Fergie, Junk, Mouth, and Nathan in his footsteps. "Yo, Luke!" The breezy July night aired out the stagnant shop.
Fergie whistled as he saw the familiar equipment and smelled the same type of motor oil. The nostalgia almost knocked him over. "Man. It's been so long since I've been in here." He almost thought that if he blinked twice, he could see his fifteen-year-old self under the hood of a car.
"I know, me too," Mouth agreed. The place hadn't changed a bit.
Nathan said nothing, just took it all in. The place had Keith all over it. He still lived with regret knowing that the only time he stepped foot in this shop was to spite Lucas- who he'd barely known at the time. The last time he had been here, when Jamie had just turned six, it was too late. Keith was already gone.
The silence surrounding them was almost too daunting for them to handle, until they heard familiar footsteps emerging from the darkness.
"Hey guys," Lucas greeted, wearing a white tee shirt, jeans and old work boots. "Nice of you to finally show up."
Skills eyed his old friend carefully. His stride was confident and his smile was smug. Something was up. "Yeah whatever. It's late, for all I knew you wanted to drag us in here and kill us all."
"Nah I just thought to invite you guys over, have a drink." Lucas reached behind the desk in front and pulled out a bottle of Jameson and shot glasses.
"For what?" Nathan asked carefully. He shared a glance with the guys. He wasn't sure if this was even allowed.
"What do you guys think of this place?" Lucas ignored Nate's question, instead he gestured to the empty shop. "You like it?"
"How could we not?" Mouth countered, taking a seat across from Lucas. The rest did the same.
"Good." Lucas poured each of his friends a glass and set the Jameson onto the counter. His smile betrayed him. "Because I bought it."
The guys said nothing. Skills was the first to say what they were all thinking. "Man, get the fuck outta here! You bought this shop?"
"Are you serious?" Nathan added.
Lucas nodded. "I bought it. It's all mine. Am I crazy?"
"Yeah!" Skills exclaimed. "How are you going to oversee it with the Ravens?"
"They're not in season all year," Lucas argued. "And I can write from a basement if I wanted to. All the people still work here, which means I don't have to be here all the time to keep the place going, necessarily."
Nathan shook his head. "I had no idea you wanted to run this place."
"Me either," Lucas insisted. "I was kind of ambushed with it recently. And now, here I am. It can't be that insane, right? People's cars are always going to need fixing."
"I feel like I'm in high school again," Junk spoke, finishing off his shot of Jameson. "Hell, maybe I can work here, now that I'm officially laid off."
"You want to?" Lucas offered.
Junk raised his brows and didn't know what to say. "Whoa, man. I was just kidding. I mean, my boss is still a dick, but…I was just joking."
"I'm not."
"Really? You'd do that?" He didn't say anything, but in that split second, Junk saw Keith offering him a summer job- just because he needed the money to help out his mom.
"Come on, I've known you for how long? I don't think it'll be too glamorous, but it's a job right?"
Junk shook his head, and he felt Keith watching in a way. "I guess I can't really refuse. Thanks, Luke."
Skills laughed. "My River Rat brother: a successful businessman and an all star high school basketball coach who can write a best seller in his sleep." Skills poured everyone another shot of Jameson in true celebratory fashion.
"It's not a bestseller yet," Lucas insisted, getting embarrassed. He just recently showed pages to people other than Peyton, and he was still nervous about it.
"Man, shut up. It will be."
That was all the toast they needed.
-x-
Skills appeared in the doorway of Lucas' office a second later. "What's good?"
"I'm not sure, you're the one visiting," Lucas said. He watched with an amused glance as Skills sat down breezily in the chair on the other side of the desk like he lived there.
"I couldn't find you at the River Court."
"Today's been busy. I've been standing for five straight hours."
Skills nodded. "You need to take it easy. How's your heart doing?"
Lucas laughed and scratched the back of his head. "It's fine."
Skills eyed him suspiciously and his glance traveled down to Luke's left hand. "Why aren't you wearing your wedding band?" he asked bluntly. His gaze was hard and almost threatening.
Lucas' eyes followed Skills' gaze. His left hand was in fact bare. Still, he shook his head and reached into the collar of his shirt. He pulled his gold wedding band into view- it remained on a silver chain that hugged his neck, just like his gold wedding band always hugged the perfect spot on his chest. "I wear it around my neck when I'm doing repairs, so it doesn't get ruined when my hands are covered in engine fluid and grease." Lucas paused and noticed Skills' empty stare. "Why the hell are you looking at me like that?"
After a second, Skills spoke. "I was just about to kick your ass if something was going down and you weren't saying anything. Because if something's going on…"
"Nothing's going on, Skills," Lucas interrupted. "Is there something else you wanted besides interrogating me?"
Skills leaned back in his chair and his cavalier attitude returned as quickly as it had gone. "Yes, as a matter of a fact there is." He gestured to Luke's desk. "You still got Jameson in your desk drawer?"
Lucas laughed. "Wow, you're pretty observant, aren't you?" Nevertheless, he reached into his bottom right desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of Jameson and two glasses. He unscrewed the cap and poured the drink for Skills to take. "What are we toasting to?"
Skills swirled the glass in his hands. "Remember that film sports coordinator job I told you about? The one that Jullian hooked me up with?"
"Yeah, you had the interview last month, right? You got more news?
Skills grinned ear to ear. "I got the job."
"What! Congrats, man. That's awesome!" He gave Skills a familiar handshake just like when they were kids. "So what does that mean now?"
"Well, it's a lot more money than what I make now, and I get benefits." Skills paused. "The only thing is that they want me out in Los Angeles."
"You're leaving?"
Skills nodded. "I start work September 1st."
"Shit," Lucas said. "I guess we'll be separated for real this time, huh?"
"I guess so. But we'll still visit all the time. Lauren's got her mom here, and this is Jeremy's home. It's going to be hard on him to leave- but this job is once in a lifetime for me."
Just three short months after Lauren and Skills exchanged wedding vows in a chapel on the beach in Mexico, Lauren announced she was pregnant. Then they found out they were having a son- whom they named Jeremy Reid Taylor. He grew to be as golden-hearted and generous as his mother, while being as rambunctious and goofy as his father.
"I know it is. I just can't believe you're moving all the way across the country. Ella's going to be heartbroken," Lucas couldn't help but say. Until Jeremy, Ella had always been Skills' Achilles heel.
"Don't pull that shit on me," Skills joked. "I will cry."
-x-x-x-EGS-x-x-x-
When my mom and I got to my Aunt Haley's house, the foyer and living room were empty. "In the kitchen!" she calls. I place my crutches by the door next to the coat rack- where I always put them. I easily cruise through the house, my mother by my side. "Hey guys!" she greets with a smile, turning from the stove. Her hair is longer and an auburn color now, I suppose hazelnut brown. Beautiful. I watch as she waltzes over to give me a hug. "Hey kiddo," she says, kissing my cheek.
"Hey," I reply, returning the hug. Aunt Haley always gives the best hugs. They were always warm, loving, and safe. She gives the same hug and kiss to my mother.
"Can I get you something to drink? Water, juice, soda?"
"No, I'm fine," I insist. I take a seat at one of the stools by the kitchen counter. Even though the seats are a little high, I push up using the strength in my arms and I'm seated in no time, my shoes dangling off the floor.
I hear my mom's phone beep, which means she got another text message. The thing wouldn't shut up the entire ride over here. "It's work," she confirms. "I have to run."
"What! You just got here!" Aunt Haley insists, a pleading look in her eyes.
"I know, I know. But what're you going to do?" My mom gives me a quick kiss and hug. "Bye baby," she whispers. "I'll pick you up later, okay?"
"Okay, bye," I say. I watch my mom hug Aunt Haley one more time, and I hear the sound of her heels against the hardwood fade away. Eventually she crosses the threshold and she's on the other side of the front door.
"So, Ella," Aunt Haley begins, and I shift in my seat nervously. Is she going to ask me a difficult question, or give me the third degree? She seats a plate of heaping food on the counter in front of me, and leans on her elbows. "What's new?"
I was about to answer until I heard two familiar voices. Those two are always hanging out when they're not in school- they're like the comedy twins- a real match made in heaven. I always say that they remind me of Turk and JD from Scrubs.
"Hey Ma!" Jamie calls as he saunters into the kitchen. Even though Jamie's like 19 now, he still acts like an eight year old most of the time. At least, around me he does. He's a little short for his age, and he's got the same dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. He looks so much like my Dad it's crazy. But he also looks so much like Aunt Haley. Especially when he smiles or has an idea. That kid has a new idea like every week. If he's not inspired to write a play, he's researching how to patent a new invention. He's insanely sporadic, and while I love him like a big brother, it drives me nuts.
Today Jamie's wearing a red tee shirt and jeans. His eyes are hidden by my Uncle Nathan's old ray bans. I don't think he's noticed that they're missing yet- he's been super busy with Clay with getting their new sports agency- I think they're calling it Fortitude-off the ground. A few months ago, Uncle Nathan finally retired from the NBA with an impressive career as a Charlotte Bobcat. He broke I don't know how many records, but he's a pretty big deal. Kids all over the country idolize him. It's really sweet, actually.
Aunt Haley threw him a huge, expensive party when he announced his retirement. Everyone showed up, and there was music and food and paparazzi. Those guys have no mercy whatsoever. They literally do not give up. I saw so many of them hiding behind bushes. My Uncle Nathan wouldn't let me out of his sight. I'm pretty sure they know (and by they, I mean the media) that his niece has a disability, and he hates it. I hate it too.
Besides that, it was a blast. But it was also a pretty emotional get together. When Uncle Nathan gave his speech at the end of the night, Aunt Haley cried, Aunt Brooke cried, and my mom cried. Hell, it was the first time in my life that I'd seen my Uncle Nathan cry. While it was touching, it broke my heart in a way. Seeing sweet guys cry always breaks my heart.
"Hey Ma!" Andre Fields breaks me from my daydream. He wraps his arms sweetly around Aunt Haley and gives her a tight hug. He's pretty much my Aunt's adoptive son. Every time I'm over (which is a lot) Andre's here.
"Hi," Aunt Haley greets, humoring Andre as she pats his arm. "What're you doing here?" she asks playfully. "It was nice and quiet." Now that's he's a young adult, Andre is known for being really loud and has a tendency to bounce off the walls in hyperactivity- at least when he's around us.
"I heard there was food."
Jamie comes around the counter with a full plate of food and ruffles my hair. "What's up, fruitcake?" he says with a laugh.
"You know, I really resent that you call me that, Rafiki."
Jamie's jaw drops to the floor and his eyes widen, causing me to break out in laughter. "Hey! Shut up!" Ever since Jamie, his girlfriend Clara, and I watched The Lion King randomly one time, we noticed the striking resemblance Jamie bared to the monkey Rafiki. The nickname kind of stuck.
Andre laughed. "Rafiki. I'm going to call you that all the time now."
"Ella, I hate you," Jamie pouted, digging into his food.
"Yeah? I hate you too," I chide, a priceless smile on my face.
"Mom! Olivia woke up from her nap." my cousin Mattie just walked into the kitchen. I can't believe he's nine already. The kid just had a few growth spurts, and he looks exactly like his dad. Especially when Aunt Haley shows me pictures, the similarities are alarming. Mattie's got Uncle Nathan's brunette hair, eyes, and smile. They're practically clones.
Little Miss Olivia, on the other hand, looks just like Haley- more so than Jamie does. She's got her eyes, and she's probably the most adorable kid I've ever seen. She just turned two last month. I remember when she was born- Aunt Haley didn't make it to the hospital and gave birth to her in the car. Uncle Nathan delivered her with the help of a police officer and a very nice paramedic on the other end of the telephone line.
My dad is her Godfather, and Quinn is her Godmother. Her baptism was just like it was yesterday. Where is the time going?
"Oh! Thanks sweetie," Aunt Haley replies. She quickly takes off her apron and on her way out of the kitchen, she stroke's Mattie's chin. "Say hello to your cousin!"
Mattie rolls his eyes and drags his way over to me. He's carrying my old Game Boy in his left hand and I can hear the Pokémon theme music coming from the speakers. "Hi," he mutters, giving me a lopsided hug.
"Hey," I say, and I laugh to myself. Mattie's still in that shy, awkward stage-I feel like I'm still in that shy awkward stage. Can't blame the kid. I pat him twice on the back before letting him free to spare him more embarrassment. He makes his way a recliner seat in the living room, eyes glued to the game the whole time.
"So Ella, middle school's almost over, huh?" Jamie begins. "I don't remember middle school at all. It's such a blur."
"You got all the girls, bro," Andre supplied, finishing off his first plate already.
I roll my eyes. "Of course you did."
Jamie laughs. "Get ready though. Middle school's pointless, but High School sucks."
"Yeah it does suck," Andre agrees, sipping orange juice. "College is so much better."
"Good to know that's over four years away." I voice is dripping with sarcasm. "How awkward is it going to be when your mom becomes my teacher?"
"She probably won't be," Jamie replies honestly. "She wasn't mine."
"She was mine," Andre said. "One of the best teachers I've ever had, actually."
"Can you repeat that?" Aunt Haley returned to the room, this time with Olivia in her arms. She was giggling and carrying a little stuffed bunny she never lived without.
Andre let out a breath and smirked. "You were one of the best teachers I've ever had, Ma."
Aunt Haley smiles. "Oh Andre, you're so sweet." She turns to Olivia and peppers her face in kisses. "Right baby?"
"Yah!" Olivia squealed in her little voice, before throwing her bunny across the room.
I laugh at Aunt Haley's expression, before she sets Olivia down on her little legs. Once she sees me, her smile widens and she runs to hug my legs. "Ella!" she says. My name's easy enough to pronounce: it's exactly as it sounds.
"Hi cutie pie!" I tell Olivia sweetly. I pat her soft brunette hair and watch as her little arms wrap around my legs. She wants me to hold her, but I'm afraid to pick her up. Not to mention I'm sitting on a stool and I can fall backwards. It sounds far-fetched, but don't put it past me. I'm disaster prone.
Luckily Jamie's there and he picks up his little sister and plops her on my lap. "I don't want to drop her," I say awkwardly, holding onto her tightly. Olivia can't tell the difference and is giving me kisses anyway.
"You got it," Jamie says calmly. His gaze travels to my legs and I bet he's also noticing how they're tensing up, again. "Just relax."
I take a deep breath and very slowly my legs relax and my toes uncurl. I try to distract myself with the beautiful little girl sitting on my lap, and so far it's working.
Jamie clears his throat and cleans up his plate and empty glass. "Thanks for the food, Mom. Can I borrow your car?"
"What happened to yours?"
"I told you, Uncle Luke is fixing my breaks and wipers. He's nearly finished."
"Where are you going?"
"Just out for a drive," Jamie says vaguely, pouting. I can see right through him. "We'll be back in two hours or so."
Aunt Haley stares at Jamie carefully before digging into the back pocket of her jeans. She fishes out her car keys and hands it to him. "No speeding," she says. "Seriously."
"I won't." Jamie kisses his mom on the cheek and motions for Andre to follow him out the door.
"Tell Clara we say hello!" Aunt Haley calls after her son and her adoptive son. I laugh a little at how Aunt Haley seems to know everything.
"We will!" Jamie shouts back. A few more frenzied footsteps, and the comedy twins are gone. The only people left in the kitchen are Aunt Haley, Olivia, Matthew, and myself. Although Matthew is so tied up in his game that it might as well be us three girls.
After finishing off my plate of food, I wipe my mouth with a napkin and take a sip of my water. The silence is daunting and almost choking me. My plan was to blurt out my news as soon as my mom left, but then Andre and Jamie came in and wouldn't shut the hell up. Typical.
"Hey, Aunt Haley," I begin. I can feel my knee shaking like it does when I'm nervous. Except I have no clue why I'm nervous. "How good are you at keeping a secret?"
Aunt Haley's eyes brighten and she smiles widely. I guess this means she's happy that I'm sharing something important with her. Contrary to popular belief, we don't forget all our role models when we become self-absorbed, narcissistic teenagers. "Are you kidding? I'm the best. Why, what's going on? You better tell me!" she jokes, leaning on the counter like an excited child.
"You can't say anything." I turn to Matthew once more and he hasn't turned around once. He could care less. "I won the vote for Student Speaker. I have to give a speech at Graduation."
Aunt Haley gasps and she squeals happily. "That's amazing! I'm so proud of you!" She pauses. "Wait, why can't I tell anyone?"
"Well, I guess you can tell Uncle Nathan. But my mom cannot find out. I want to surprise her."
"She's going to cry," Aunt Haley tells me, a smile playing on her face.
"I know."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
A week later, Lucas walked through his gym, hearing how his shoes hit the floor in a rhythm. Several State Championship banners hung from the ceiling in decoration, some of them consecutive. Nathan's jersey, Jamie's jersey, and Quentin Field's jersey still hung on the wall. More often than not Lucas walked through the gym and was reminded of his days as a Raven. Whitey always said he loved an empty gym- that it was peaceful, kind of like a church. Lucas' response as a sixteen-year-old was incorrect. There had been a hell of praying done in this gym. Even though at the moment, the place was empty, Lucas could still hear prayers floating through the air- for just one more basket, just one more win- just for a miracle.
Lucas could've sworn his gym was empty and he could finally find the time to play on his own. It wasn't until he was near half court that he saw a familiar shadow standing under the basket- probably a future Duke Blue Devil. Basketball was this boy's art, and he was painting a masterpiece. "Ryan," Lucas called, striding over to the young boy. "It's late. Go home."
Ryan Hayes turned, his blue Ravens tee dripping in his own sweat. His black hair, which contrasted with his pale skin, nearly covered his teal eyes, and he'd gotten so tall recently that Lucas didn't recognize him most of the time. He pulled his black ear buds from his ears and let the basketball hang from his hips. "It's not that late." He bounced the ball once or twice on the hardwood floors, not being able to live without that magical sound.
Lucas scoffed. "It's six o clock on a school night. You're a State Champ. No more Thursday night practice until next season."
Ryan smiled and his pearly white teeth sparkled. "Right. Practice is over by your rules. But for me, practice is everyday. Besides. This is my way of celebrating."
"Celebrating what?"
"I had my History panel earlier today."
Lucas raised his brows and eyed Ryan carefully. When Lucas first met Ryan two years ago, the kid had an attitude. He thought he deserved to walk on rose petals, and was above everything and anyone. With his dedication to basketball and blossoming social life, he had zero desire to do well in school. Until he realized that in order to be on the starting line up of the Ravens, he had to pass all his classes- that meant earning a higher grade than a C. "I thought that was tomorrow."
"Ms. Cramer agreed to let me do it today."
"Well," Lucas pressed eagerly, "How did it go?" He didn't feel the slightest bit nervous, for over the past two years his faith in Ryan had only grown. Plus, the boy's proud smile diminished any feelings of anxiousness.
"I passed. They gave me an A."
The high school proudly employed five major papers and panels that must be completed by rising sophomores, juniors, and seniors that wish to graduate: Foreign Language, American History, Science, Literature, and Math. In sophomore year, students had to complete a foreign language paper on a social topic and present it to a panel of faculty. In junior year, perhaps the hardest, students had to write a historical thesis on a topic of their choice and defend their argument in front of a panel. On top of that, they also had to conduct a self-designed experiment in any of the offered science courses and present at a symposium. In senior year, students completed the Literature and Math requirements. If the students successfully passed each paper and panel, they effectively confirmed their readiness for graduation. After a minor setback, Ryan Hayes had officially passed junior year as of 4:30pm that afternoon- and in a year's time, after completing his Literary Criticism and Literature Panel, Ryan would be walking across the stage to receive his diploma. The best part was, everyone had doubted him. Well, except one person.
"You see! Congratulations. I told you everything would work out." He reached to shake Ryan's hand but instead, the boy gave him a hug.
For someone who used to have a great sense of personal space, Ryan's hug was unusually warm and tender. In that one second, behind his tough and arrogant exterior, the boy was vulnerable. "Thanks for all your help, Coach," he said. When all the other teachers had given up, Lucas was the one that set a pile of books on Ryan's desk and helped him develop a thesis surrounding Prohibition. Lucas was the one that answered Ryan's constant emails and looked over all of his edits. Lucas was the one that stayed after hours to make sure Ryan passed. Not just for the sake of his team- it was well beyond that, much greater than that.
"That was all you," Lucas insisted, patting Ryan on the shoulder. "Just remember to give yourself more credit."
Ryan nodded, and even though he didn't say much, Lucas knew he got through to him. He somehow always did. He gestured to the basketball hoop behind him. "Game to 21?"
"Good idea, you need to work on your fade away," Lucas said, slouching down to his knees to catch Ryan's pass.
"What! There's nothing wrong with my fade away." Ryan approached Lucas and set his feet up in a stance to block Lucas from the basket.
"Yeah, that's what you think."
Lucas began to dribble and try and sneak past Ryan on the left, but the boy was too quick and practically picked Lucas' pocket. He dribbled a skill move through his legs, as fluid as river water. When Lucas moved to block Ryan on the left block, Ryan faked him and did a fade away, jumping back on his left leg and watching as the ball sailed through the air and into the net. "Oh! What!" Ryan laughed and watched as Lucas went to retrieve the ball. "That was beautiful."
"Yeah yeah, that's the oldest trick in the book," Lucas insisted with a smile. "And you know what? I wrote that book."
Ryan raised his brows. "Actually, I'm pretty sure your little brother wrote that book."
Lucas said nothing, instead began to walk quickly towards Ryan with the intent to hit him over the head.
Ryan laughed and broke into a run, running circles underneath the basketball hoop. "Shit!" Ryan swore, tripping over his shoelace. He covered his head even though he knew Lucas would never actually hit him, just playfully shove him to the floor.
"You're going to be devastated when I beat you," Lucas insisted, faking Ryan out on the right (his weak side) and going for a lay up.
The two played until it was 17-14 in favor of Lucas, whose feet had begun to ache. He straightened out and took a few deep breaths, at which point his chest started throbbing. He stole a glance at his wristwatch. They'd only been playing for twenty-five minutes. Dr. Chu advised him to max out at no more than 15. Only during this one second respite did Lucas realize how worn out he was. He grabbed his water bottle and began to drain it eagerly.
"You alright?" Ryan asked. "Maybe we should stop."
"Why, afraid you'll lose?" Lucas asked, having to catch his breath.
Ryan rolled his eyes. "No, you have a heart condition."
Lucas attempted to make a joke out of it, but Ryan wasn't having it this time. Ever since he had found out about Lucas' HCM, he was the one reminding Lucas to take breaks during practice, instead of it being the other way around. So, Lucas nodded and threw Ryan the ball. "You win."
Ryan smirked and motioned behind Lucas' shoulder. "Hey, Peyton!"
Lucas turned around, and sure enough Peyton was sitting on the bleachers on the other side of the court. She had walked in right in the middle of the guys laughing over some joke. They were so into the game, they didn't notice her walk in- even though she was wearing her favorite pair of heels. She had watched their entire interaction, and her heart felt full. She knew since that one night when Lucas had Ryan over for dinner, that nothing could break their bond. When Lucas came home from work and would tell Peyton about Ryan's astounding progress, Peyton would just smile. What she could tell, before everyone else, was that Lucas was changing this boy's life. He just didn't know it.
Lucas playfully hit Ryan in the shin with his foot. "Quit checking out my wife!"
"Hi Ryan," Peyton returned. She rested her chin in her palm and watched Lucas walk quickly over to her. Ryan, on the other hand, had respectfully turned his back away from the adults, planted his feet on the free throw line, and began making baskets to his own music soundtrack.
"Hey," Lucas greeted Peyton softly, sitting down next to her.
Peyton placed a soft kiss on Luke's lips. "Are you okay? You're sweating."
"I was playing a basketball game," Lucas answered plainly.
Peyton rolled her eyes. "You weren't at the shop or at the River Court. I figured this was the only place left to find you."
"I know, this week's just been crazy. You figure since it's almost the end of the year, teachers will let off with work. I feel like it's the exact opposite. I had to help Ryan. He had his History panel today, a day early. But he passed with an A."
"That's great!"
"He hugged me," Lucas whispered, somehow fearing Ryan would hear even though music was blasting in his ears. "He's never done that before."
"He loves you," Peyton told Lucas softly. Her green eyes were a beautiful ember shade as she gently rested her palm on Lucas' cheek.
"How are you doing?" Lucas asked instead, although he couldn't ignore his feelings of pride. He placed a strand of Peyton's ear like he was known to do. "You look better. Are you still feeling like it's the flu?" He sweetly put his palm on Peyton's thigh, running his hand along it. That touch alone gave her butterflies.
Peyton looked up at Lucas and smiled. Suddenly her hands began to shake and her heart rate accelerated. Luke was staring at her with those beautiful blue eyes, and oh this news was going to thrill him beyond comprehension. "I don't think it's the flu. "
It took Lucas a few moments to actually understand what she was really saying. A smile broke out on his lips. "…Oh."
After Ella's first surgery and their attempts to get pregnant were unsuccessful, Lucas and Peyton resigned to the fact that another baby wasn't meant to be back then.
In a way it worked out better, because Ella's second surgery arrived quickly, just after she turned seven. Dr. Farrell performed a surgical Achilles tendon lengthening so that Ella could walk with her feet flat on the floor, (which meant no more toe-walking) and at the same time he loosened and lengthened Ella's hamstring muscles to relieve her spasticity- or, as she liked to call them, "hyper active muscles".
After that, Lucas and Peyton never again questioned Dr. Farrell's sense of practicality and decisiveness. He wanted to literally do one surgery after the other to radically improve Ella's quality of life while she was still young and resilient to major surgery. Dr. Farrell stuck to his word one month after Ella's 10th birthday. He performed her third surgery, what he liked to call a Removal of Hardware. The metal plates and screws he had inserted into her femur and hip when she was five had to be removed because she outgrew them. They were literally too small, and got dislodged as she grew, which was pretty painful. While the procedure wasn't as nearly as daunting as the first one (none of the surgeries that followed proved to be), it still meant another surgery.
Lucas and Peyton certainly didn't have the time to care for another baby, and it was almost like the universe was well aware of that.
"Is 'oh' your favorite word?" Peyton teased. She relented and grabbed Luke's hand from where it rested on her thigh. "Do you think I should take a test?"
"I mean, that's usually the first step," Lucas joked. "The pharmacy is still open."
Peyton gazed at him and tried not to laugh. He really was going to drive her all the way to the pharmacy on what she thought was a hunch. Who was she kidding? It wasn't a hunch. It was real. She could feel it in her heart. So, with Luke's hand still entwined in hers, she adjusted her purse on her shoulder and stood up. "Let's go."
Lucas turned back to his star basketball player. "Ryan!" he shouted loud enough for him to hear through the music. "Go home!"
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
"Luke!" Peyton called from the door of their bedroom. "We're going to be late!" Her fingers are dangling with the chain of her peridot necklace and she can't get it hooked around her neck.
"Have you seen my tie?" Luke asked hurriedly, his shiny loafers hitting the hardwood floors. He just finished pulling his black blazer over his deep blue dress shirt. All that was left to complete his outfit was that damn black tie.
"It's right here," Peyton replied. She brought the tie around the collar of Lucas' shirt and began to fix it for him, gently bringing the fabric and fixing it to his chest. She could smell his cologne and it made her shiver. Suddenly, with him so close and his eyes so blue, goose bumps rose on Peyton's arms and it was like she received the blessed news all over again. "I think we should tell Ella today," Peyton whispered with a smile.
Lucas chuckled and ran his thumb along Peyton's cheek. "That's kind of a big day, no? Finishing off middle school, starting a new chapter in her life, and then finding out she's going to be a big sister?"
Peyton laughed and brought her arms around Luke's waist. He was even closer and she could feel his body heat- she loved and hated it at the same time. "She's going to be so happy," Peyton said, finally feeling light again. She'd do anything to see that smile on Ella's face. She was going to get what she always wished for from the very start. In a way, they all were.
-x-x-x-EGS-x-x-x-
It's beautiful out. The sky is burning blue and there's just a little breeze. The foliage is starting to turn green through the tree branches, a sign that summer is finally here. It's a beautiful day. It's Graduation day.
My speech is typed in a Times New Roman 12 point font and is folded into a perfect square. It spent the night under my pillow. I decided it deserved such a space of honor after what I went through to write it. It didn't take me long to realize just how much had been riding on this speech- in fact I think it sunk in as soon as I picked up my favorite red pen. The kids who I thought ignored me most of the time chose me to represent them. They chose me to speak for them. Like I would know what the hell to say.
It was all looking pretty helpless until Katie convinced me to hang out with her last Thursday night. We had the next day off, so naturally I slept at Katie's place. Her, Catherine and I were just hanging out in her backyard when it started pouring. It was the kind of pouring where you get soaked in seconds and the grass is getting pounded to nothing under your feet. While I insisted over and over to run back inside, Katie and Catherine started singing. They sounded terrible, but they sang anyway, in the pouring rain. I did nothing but watch them, and I knew it would be one of those moments I would never forget. So when Katie and Catherine were stuck in their own romantic ballads, I ran off as fast as I could without falling. I sloppily made my way downstairs, and once I crossed the threshold I dug for any kind of paper in Katie's messy bedroom. Since her light was busted, I had to write the speech in red ink pen with a damp hand by flashlight. A few edits later, and here we are.
The auditorium is getting more packed by the second. I look around and see all my classmates, who I love and hate, envy and admire, adore and cannot stand. They're either wearing suits, skirts or nice dresses, and I realize this is the first time we're all dressed up.
We're lined up against the wall like we practiced in rehearsal, just by height. Of course we have problems staying still, though. We're having scattered conversations full of elation and excitement. We've heard such grand things about high school and we're right at its doorstep. Wait a sec. That's a great line. I'm going to add that in my speech. Just as I'm about to get it from the pocket of my graduation gown, I see my mother make her way through the crowd.
"Hey," she says. She's wearing a dress that probably isn't new but looks like it is, and she looks beautiful. I can tell her eyes are watery. The ceremony hasn't even started yet and she's getting emotional. Oh Jesus. I hope she doesn't sit in the front row so I don't have to meet her gaze when I'm delivering this speech. Then she'll definitely cry, and then I'll probably cry. I watch as she tenderly hooks a white rose on the left side of my deep blue gown and zips up the zipper all the way up. She runs a finger over the gold strip on my gown that signifies honor roll. She places her warm hand on my cheek and smiles as she sees my long, wavy blonde hair and the green eyes I got from her. "You look so beautiful," she says, and her voice almost is full of lament. She doesn't want me growing up so quickly. I don't want to grow up so quickly.
"Thanks," I say. My gaze falls to my red crutches and I want to throw them in a fire. "I hope I don't fall when I have to walk to get my diploma. That will be mortifying."
"You're not going to fall. Don't think like that."
"I'll try not to, but you know it's a huge possibility."
"Don't worry. Just focus, and you'll be fine." My mom looks me over with soft eyes and I can tell she's getting emotional all over again. "When did you get so grown up?"
I stare at her blankly. "Please don't cry."
"Who's crying?" Catherine asked, who abandoned her place in line and came to stand to my right. I think the fact that she's really leaving Katie and I for high school finally hit her and she's a bit clingy. But I don't mind. Today's going to suck. It's like the universe is splitting up the Three Musketeers.
Katie, the third, is on my left. She's linked her arm through mine and I'm hoping I never have to let go. "Awe, don't cry! I'll cry."
"My babies are graduating!"
"It's just middle school, Mom."
"So? It's still a big deal." She ignores the look on my face by hugging and kissing each of us. But then when she hugs me, she holds me for a little longer than everyone else. She kisses my forehead and tells me she loves me so that no one else can hear.
"Love you too," I tell her quietly. Her hand is entwined with mine and I hold it tightly. I remember when my hand barely fit in her palm.
"Your cousin Jamie is going to scream so loud when they call your name," my mom laughs.
"Oh God." I can just imagine what's going to go down when they all realize that I'm giving the speech.
In that second, out of the corner of my eye I see my father slip quietly passed the crowd in a deep blue dress shirt, black blazer and slacks. My mom sends me one final wink and tells me she'll see me inside, and then goes by my dad so they could walk in together. I almost didn't notice that they were holding hands.
"That's going to be our Coach," Sheff nudges his buddy Kyle. They watch eagerly as my father disappears towards the auditorium. To them, he's a legend. He was the guy who got the Ravens their first championship. He's the guy that has the Ravens on an unstoppable streak. But to me, he's just Dad. "Hey, Ella…"
"No," I tell them. "Whatever you're thinking, the answer is no."
"Oh, come on!" Sheff begs. "Can you at least talk to him for us?"
"No! What difference do you think I could possibly make on my dad's roster?"
"I don't know, but you're his kid! Drop a hint here and there," Kyle pleads.
Katie rolls her eyes in disgust. "First of all, you'd have to try out for Varsity first. And second of all, you're not good enough to make the team. So how about no?"
Katie pulls me gently and leads me down the hallway. Our shoes squeak on the black and white linoleum and we arrive to the doors we're meant to go through when the ceremony begins. The room has nearly filled up, and the stage is set with seats. But all my eyes can land on is the single podium with a black microphone front and centre.
"Whoa. That's a lot of people." I feel my heart pounding in my chest and my stomach starts twisting again. I'm so glad I had a light breakfast.
"You're going to be fine. Can I see your speech?"
My eyes flicker as I rummage through my pockets. "Oh, fuck!" My hand is planted over my mouth. "I forgot it on my kitchen table."
Katie's eyes widen. "Are you serious? Oh my God. Can you improvise?"
"No!"
"What're we going to do?"
I start to laugh. "Nothing. I'm screwing with you." I need to laugh or else I'm going to throw up.
"Fuck you!" Katie swears. "You almost gave me a bloody heart attack."
I reach out and pull out my perfectly folded square. I practiced in front of my mirror before I went to bed last night, and weirdly I'm praying the words didn't change or screw over into something unrecognizable. "It's right here."
"Can I see it?"
"No way!"
"Please! I'm really curious."
"You'll just have to wait and actually listen when I deliver it."
Katie and I watch with wide eyes at the auditorium, full of our teachers and parents. This was a big crowd for just a middle school graduation. I wonder how many of those people know I'm speaking. Oh, crap- more people to impress.
"So how crazy is this, huh? Pre-school, elementary school, and middle school graduation together," I tell Katie, draping my arm over her shoulder.
"And high school," Katie adds with a smile. "You and I have been through a lot, haven't we?"
Not many thirteen-year-olds can say they survived three major surgeries together. Katie came with her parents and surprised me in New York when I was in recovery from my most recent surgery. Apparently the house we were been staying in was the same one from when I was five, I just have next to no recollection of it. But the place is nice. I was feeling so awful that day, and Katie made me feel so much better. She brought me chocolate from London.
When Katie messed up the growth plate in her hand playing a random soccer game and had to get surgery, I was the one visiting her.
When Katie's dog Teddy died from throat cancer, I let Katie cry in my arms behind the teacher's desk.
Whenever people would stare at my stroller and my braces when Katie pushed me down the sidewalk, she would stare the onlookers down and say, with quite a bit of attitude for an eight-year-old, "What're you looking at?"
"I love you, you know."
Katie smiles and wraps me in a hug. "I love you too, sis."
I kiss Katie's cheek just as she'd always done for me. "You're probably the only sister I'll ever have."
"You're probably the only sister I'll ever have," Katie returns. "Sounds pretty perfect to me."
"Ladies!" Katie and I turn to see Mr. Dexter, looking dashing in a charcoal blazer and white button down. His hair is combed to the side and his eyes have shrunk behind his glasses. "You're not in line! Hurry up and get back there!" We've never seen him so stern, and for a second we're stunned. But his sternness melts away and he smiles. "Just kidding. You're fine. We've still got a few minutes." He waltzes up next to us and whistles at the amount of people in the audience. "Ella, how're you feeling? You ready?"
I take a deep breath. "Ask me that in five minutes."
Mr. Dexter chuckles. "So that's where you'll be speaking," he points to the podium. A light from above is shining directly on it, I sware. "We'll have your speech already up there and waiting for you." Mr. Dexter gestures to a chair far on the left, next to the stairs. "What do you think if we seat you there? That way you'll be close to the stairs and you won't have to be knocking people over to get by them. It's poorly designed, I know."
"Sounds good." My eyes travel quickly over the stairs-with a railing, thank God- and the distance to the podium. Usually I could make the distance no problem without the crutches-I only really use them outside anyway- but my concern is with all the speaker cables blocking my path. I could trip on one of them and it'll be textbook mortification. And since I really don't want to use the crutches to get to the podium, I turn to Mr. Dexter and ask him another favor. "Do you think you can lend me a hand to get to the podium?"
"Of course. You read my mind. Last thing I'm going to need is your speech."
With steady hands, I reach into the pocket of my gown for my square. I hand it to him somewhat reluctantly.
"Ella. Don't worry. It's really good." Mr. Dexter smiles before stealing a glance at his silver wristwatch. "Looks like it's show-time." He gestured for Katie and I to follow him back to where everyone was assembling in line. I run back into my spot and Katie does also at the other end of the line.
"Alright everyone!" Mr. Dexter yells over the crowd and we all quiet down. "You all look smashing. In just a few minutes the ceremony will begin. Watch where to walk. Smile for God sakes. And don't forget about us."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Peyton settled in a seat between Lucas and Haley in the middle of the auditorium, a little off center as per Ella's instructions. The class covered the stage, a sea of deep cobalt blue. Peyton had a great view of Ella laughing at something one of her classmates said. She still couldn't digest that her baby girl was wearing a cap and gown- and this wasn't even the big league yet.
Haley nudged Nathan's arm with her elbow and he cleared his throat. He directed his question to Peyton with a sly grin, "Have you looked at the program yet?"
Peyton picked up the silver program carefully. She watched her in-laws with a suspicious gaze before flipping right to page four of the program. On pages two and three was the list of students in this year's graduating class, and on page four was the order of the program. First on the list were the opening remarks by the Principal. And then Peyton's eyes fell on the second name, in black lettering,
Student Speaker, Class of 2026
Ella Grace Scott
Peyton ran her fingers along Ella's name, her eyes watering up. The ceremony hadn't started yet and she was getting emotional. She looked at Lucas first but didn't say a word.
"I had no idea," Lucas insisted, taking a look at the program himself.
Nathan and Haley, on the other hand, had huge grins on their faces. "We knew."
"She had to tell somebody," Haley added. "She wanted to surprise you."
"Surprise!" Nathan said, nudging Peyton's shoulder.
"Surprise what?" Jamie asked, leaning over his mother's shoulder.
"Look at the program."
Jamie leafed through the program with Clara on his left. He looked up to his Aunt and Uncle with a look of disbelief on his face. "Ella's speaking? What! How come nobody knew about this?" Jamie quickly spread the news down the row like a game of telephone, except louder.
The loudest was Brooke. "No way! How did Haley find out before me? What's going on here?" And yet her playful disappointment couldn't mask her pride. Brooke raised her arms in exaggerated fashion to get Ella's attention. It didn't take long for Ella to notice Brooke's from her seat on stage, and she began to laugh.
In the flurry of people she didn't recognize, Ella saw her family taking up a whole row. But perhaps most importantly, she saw her mother and her tears glimmering from afar. Ella bravely met her mother's gaze with a private smile and simply shrugged.
-x-x-x-EGS-x-x-x-
Literally everyone and their mother showed up to see me graduate. Not counting my parents, I saw Uncle Derek and Aunt Lisa, Grandma Karen and Grandpa Larry, Uncle Nathan, Aunt Haley, Matthew, Jamie, Clara (I thought she was kidding when she told me I'll see you there), and Aunt Brooke and Natalie. There were so many of them, they took up an entire row for crying out loud.
Everything goes by so fast it's almost a blur. Pretty soon I heard my name through the microphone, and Mr. Dexter is already at the foot of the stage stairs, gallantly holding his hand out for me to take. I take his hand and take sure strides down the stairway, walking carefully across the cables strewn across the floor while pretending not to notice hundreds of people staring at me.
My speech is sitting on the podium as promised, unfolded and open to only my eyes. I can see the creases in the paper. The letters are crisp, black and neat. I wish I left it handwritten. I'm deciding to stare at this little spot on the wall, a little spot that's above everyone's heads and just below the stage light so I won't go blind. I take a deep breath and take care that it's not amplified. All I see are eyes, burning into me and watching my every move. They are the sea I have to face without a lifejacket.
Do not be afraid, and have the courage to chase your every dream.
Aunt Brooke gave me her blessing to borrow and alter that line from the speech that won her vote for Student Council President. Of course, that line was originally spoken by JFK. But I can bet nobody noticed because they were too busy clapping and cheering.
I swam without a lifejacket and the sea embraced me.
For now.
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PLEASE REVIEW!
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