It was a no-go with Principal Morita.
"You're telling me I need to delay graduation because a…friend is having stomach issues tonight and can't make it right away?"
MJ kept her expression carefully closed off and lifted her shoulders in a mild shrug.
"With all due respect, sir, my friend was literally dead for five years, had to redo part of the hardest year of high school, and really just wants to walk the line tonight. The activities of his gastrointestinal tract are entirely out of his control."
Principal Morita stared critically at MJ for a moment, the expression on his face an odd mixture of confusion and curiosity, before finally sighing and reaching up to massage the bridge of his nose.
"Michelle," he began, and MJ knew what he was going to say before he even stopped rubbing his nose to look at her fully. "I understand and sympathize with your friend's predicament. Unfortunately, however, I don't believe it's wise to delay the proceedings tonight for the sake of a single person. We're performing two commencement ceremonies already, and there are a good deal of prominent men and women attending who can barely fit this into their schedule as it is."
MJ resisted the urge to snort in amusement at that last part. The reason they were having two commencement ceremonies in the first place was because there were technically two senior classes—the portion of her and Peter's class that had blipped away for five years and then the senior class that had gone through high school in the meantime. Surely parents—parents like hers, who were busy all the time—could manage to come for a few hours tonight to see their sons and daughters get the diploma they had technically waited nine years to receive.
But snorting wouldn't have helped Peter, so she restrained herself.
"Peter's the valedictorian of our class," she said neutrally.
Now Morita did look surprised.
"You mean Peter is the student who can't make it in time?"
MJ nodded, lacing her hands together in front of her to avoid fidgeting with them. Time was draining away, and she needed to get the ball rolling soon if they were going to carry out their plan at all. Morita sighed and leaned back against the dark wood of his office desk. He crossed his feet at the ankles and then looked contemplatively away from MJ.
"And there's absolutely no way he can make it here on time?"
"No, sir. I know without a doubt that he would if he could."
Again, Morita leveled that probing stare at her—the one he had no doubt used on scores of students who had been sent to his office for various infractions of school policy. Maybe it would have broken the resolve of some who passed through his doors, but MJ had practice of maintaining her composure under pressure. She stared back coolly, her eyes practically daring him to try and ferret out the full truth of the situation.
"Very well," Morita finally broke out, apparently satisfied that this was as much information as he was going to get. MJ pushed down the vaguely unexpected jolt of disappointment at the idea that their plan might not be necessary after all.
And then he said: "I'll do what I can, only because he is the valedictorian, and your class will be the first to graduate tonight."
MJ offered him a small smile.
"But I can't guarantee anymore than five or ten minutes. If he doesn't show up by then, I'm afraid he will not be able to participate."
MJ's disappointment winked out.
Five to ten minutes wasn't going to cut it—she didn't know how long it would take Peter to finish up whatever business he had out there as Spiderman, but she was almost certain it was going to take longer than that.
But instead of protesting Morita's reluctant flexibility on the matter, she merely smiled.
"Thank you, sir. I know Peter will be very grateful to you for this."
Morita nodded, and she saw a flash of genuine goodwill in the hint of a smile that curved his lips.
"I'm sure he will. And congratulations for your graduation, Ms. Jones. You've overcome a lot to be here tonight."
MJ retained her smile as she dipped her head in acknowledgement and opened the office door.
"Thank you. I'm glad it's finally here."
Time to give Ned and Betty the signal.
Betty did her breathing exercises.
Breathe in.
She wrinkled her nose but kept her eyes closed anyway. It stank in this lobby.
Hold for 5 seconds.
She flexed her fingers.
Breathe out slowly.
She opened her eyes and caught Ned's gaze from across the lobby, where he was trying to discreetly make his way to the booth that controlled the technology on and around the football field. He nodded encouragingly, flashing her the O.K. sign, and she returned the favor.
She had this.
It wouldn't be that difficult.
Mr. Roman Brant might have been one of the most important members of the school board and an integrative part of one of Queens' political education administration committee, but he was also her uncle. She saw him every Thanksgiving and Christmas at Aunt Lucille's house. It wasn't like she was going to stage a complete meltdown in front of the president or anything.
Plus, after tonight she probably wouldn't have to see him in a school-related capacity ever again.
Betty internally rolled her eyes at herself.
Seriously. This was all for Peter's sake. He'd literally saved her life—maybe more than once—so she owed him at least this much. That's what friends did for each other, right? And she'd been trying to be a better friend lately after all.
Betty squared her shoulders, zipped her gown up as high it would go, and then marched over to where her uncle was laughing with her dad, a glass of water sloshing precariously in his hand.
She hadn't done any official theater or drama-related productions since middle school, but she had been a consistent member of the drama department at her church all throughout high school, so she did know a few things about acting. She wasn't the best at it, per se, but she could whip up some tears. She'd been Mary in the Christmas play every year she'd been available since eighth grade, and she had been told that she was a very convincing new mother.
If that meant she could pull off a stressed, sweaty face, then she was in good shape.
She stopped near her dad's shoulder and tried on her best bashful expression, looking for an opening in the conversation.
As luck would have it, her dad provided one for her almost as soon as she walked up.
"And here's my girl. Roman, you would not believe how hard she's worked over the past few months. Right, Bets?"
Betty gave her dad a fluttering smile but kept her head down. Her dad immediately sensed something was off, frowned, and awkwardly draped an arm around her shoulders.
"Are you okay, honey?"
Betty acted as if she were struggling to come up with the right words to say and then looked up at Roman, hoping the fog across her contacts was due to the precursors of those tears she needed rather than just some dust or something.
"U-Uncle Roman, can I…can I talk to you about something?"
She added a little lip tremble for effect.
Betty's dad was growing increasingly concerned, she could tell—a part of her was definitely feeling guilty over that—and her uncle also wasn't looking as if he quite knew how to handle the situation. He exchanged a confused and possibly very worried glance with her dad before setting his water down on a nearby table.
"Er, of course, Betty."
Betty clenched her fists and sniffed a bit, glancing around at all the people as if the idea of crying in front of them scared her to death. Uncle Roman nervously smoothed his scraping of salt-and-pepper hair down and pushed the glasses up higher on his nose.
"Uh, would you rather step into the principal's office to talk?"
Betty nodded eagerly. That was exactly what she needed. She summoned all her collected acting skills over the year at that moment, working up the deluge of tears she needed to shed.
Shooting another perturbed glance at her dad, her uncle awkwardly gestured for them to move towards Principal Morita's office, which was across the room and down a short little hallway.
Her dad tried to follow, but Betty let the first tear fall and shook her head.
"Can I…can I just talk to Uncle Roman at the moment please, Dad?"
Her dad seemed unable to do anything but dumbly oblige her. The single tear she had shed so far really seemed to disturb him—she knew he usually tried to leave all the emotional stuff up to his wife, who was currently on the other side of the lobby.
Once he had given permission, however, Uncle Roman exchanged a few quiet words with Principal Morita. He had just emerged from his office following his conference with MJ, and his expression was pensive as he spoke with Mr. Brant.
But he took one look at Betty's rapidly reddening face and nodded.
They could use the office to talk if need be—everything was going exactly as MJ had predicted it would.
Uncle Roman followed Betty inside, closed the door, and then awkwardly faced her.
"What's going on?" he asked uncertainly.
Betty let the tension hang in the air for another moment, lips trembling, eyes wide with tears just yearning to be set loose, and then let out a wail that wasn't bad if she said so herself. She leaned forward and hugged her uncle as if she was about to break apart and began sobbing.
"I just don't think I can do it!" she sniffed. "I don't think I can graduate tonight! It's…it's been such a strange year and so much has happened and I—I just feel so overwhelmed. I don't want to—to worry Dad, but—"
She broke off and sucked in a great breath, gratified to find that the tears were flowing freely and generously now.
Uncle Roman, apparently paralyzed by uncertainty over what to do or say, did nothing but stammer a few incoherent words and try to extricate himself from Betty's desperate embrace.
But Betty was just getting started. She had waterproof mascara on, extra foundation and blush in the purse her mom was carrying, and a mission to accomplish. The longer she could keep her uncle engaged, away from the responsibilities he was supposed to be fulfilling onstage tonight, the more time she could buy for Peter to make it in time.
Plus, this was actually kind of fun, even if she felt a little bad for embarrassing her uncle and making her dad worry. Maybe she could explain later—at least to her dad.
"Did you f—feel like this when you graduated, uncle? What am I supposed to do? What do I…do I have to say anything? I'm—I'm so sorry but I just don't know what to do! Y—you know what to do, don't you?"
Poor Uncle Roman was pale at this point, though he managed to shrug Betty off of him and into a chair, where she sat wringing the corner of her graduation gown and blinking through tears.
The number one rule of acting was being willing to do whatever it took to get into character, and Betty intended to take that to heart right now.
Roman Brant finally managed to gather a handful of his wits, and he was cramming tissues from Morita's desk into her hands, down on one knee trying to soothe her, casting worried glances towards the door and his watch, as Betty blubbered on.
It was probably about ten minutes before the ceremony was about to start at this point, and as a school official, he was supposed to already be onstage and in position before graduates began coming out. So, for the moment at least, he was as good as late.
Mission accomplished, she thought.
Her Uncle should be occupied as long as she could keep up the waterworks, which was turning out to be surprisingly easy because maybe she actually did have a good deal of tension saved up for tonight.
Betty just hoped Mr. Brant didn't try to get the school counselor involved before she could make him late enough to graduation for it to count.
There was no turning back now.
A/N: Okay, this is where things might get a little...wacky, guys. I'm kind of excited to actually get into what was supposed to be the meat of this story all along, so I really hope it all makes sense and stays true to the characters (even though I definitely took some liberties with them here in particular ;). Please let me know what you thought either way, and thanks so much for reading! I hope and pray you're all doing well wherever you're at. God bless. :D
"For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life." ~ Romans 5:10