A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who read my story and left a review.
You guys rock and encourage me to write! I hope you all enjoy this last
chapter. At first I didn't really like this story, but it's grown on me
and I had fun writing it. Watch out for my next story, "The Sophomore
Chronicles" which provides several glimpses into the sophomore year of Adam
Banks.
The next Monday morning, exactly a week from their first appointment, Portman sat waiting in Mr. Turner's office. After a week with his toughened-up schedule and several nights of thinking, Portman was still not sure if he had made his decision and was anxious to keep his appointment with the academic counselor.
The door behind Portman was pushed open and he could hear Mr. Turner enter, humming a tune. Turner, not expecting to see anyone in his office, gave out a yelp and spilled the cup of coffee he was holding all over his freshly-pressed dress shirt.
"Oh, shit!" Neither of them was quite sure who yelled the obscenity and there was a panicked outburst in the room. Portman grabbed a fistful of tissues from the box on Turner's desk and handed them to him quickly.
After the two of them had calmed down, Mr. Turner deadpanned in his most serious and composed voice. "That was really hot."
As Portman heard his relaxed voice, he took in Turner's stained shirt, tousled hair and red face. There was a silence in the office—and then Portman laughed. He laughed harder than he remembered ever laughing in the presence of a school administrator. Turner took in Portman's stooped-over, cackling figure and started laughing, too. That moment was critical to Portman—it assured him that he could trust Mr. Turner.
"So, Mr. Portman, I imagine you're here to talk about your schedule. What did you decide?" Mr. Turner put on an air of nonchalance, but he waited intently for Dean's answer.
Portman's face was enigmatic. "Do you really think that I could go to college?"
"You are a young man with so much promise, Mr. Portman. I knew when you enrolled at this school that you could bring something special and unique to this campus—and I have not been disappointed. I think any college would be lucky to have you." Mr. Turner spoke with all the sincerity that he possessed.
Portman was not quite convinced. "What about my record, Mr. Turner? I've been to three different juvies before I was 14. I think that all those colleges are going to take one look at my application and laugh their asses off, before sending me off to rejection oblivion."
Portman put on a tough front, but Mr. Turner could see that deep down, he was just afraid of being rejected, feeling like he wasn't good enough. "On the contrary, Dean—most universities now include a comprehensive review in their admissions process. Along with grades, strength of schedule, extracurricular activities and test scores, schools are now looking very closely at personal circumstance in making their decisions."
Portman knew what Mr. Turner was saying but wanted him to elaborate. "And that means?"
"The fact that you do have such a storied past, and have succeeded in spite of it—that's a real testament to your character. Coupled with your good grades, excellent test scores, tough class schedule and hockey experience, I don't think you'll have any problem gaining admission to almost any college that you could imagine." Mr. Turner paused. "That is, of course, if you decide to keep the schedule you have right now. What do you say?"
Portman sat in thought while Mr. Turner sat in suspense. "Well, I've always been a Michigan football fan—maybe I'll go there."
Mr. Turner looked at Portman for a long moment, an indescribable look in his eyes. Inexplicably to Portman, Mr. Turner stood up and left his desk to stand in front of him, placing his hands on Portman's shoulders. "Are you sure about this?"
Portman nodded, and he was more certain than he initially thought. "Yes."
"Fantastic!" Before Portman had time to react, Mr. Turner enveloped him in a hug. Portman smiled in spite of himself, not particularly used to having someone care so much about his future, and hugged him back.
It was September 9th, and all had gathered at the Banks residence to celebrate Adam's 17th birthday. The Ducks were there, of course—Adam could not imagine spending his day with anybody else. Surprisingly, however, Adam also invited his senior teammates. For some reason, the day would not seem right without them. Even more surprising, all of them had come. Adam looked around and smiled.
There was Nick Harden and Ryan Hudson, two of the most popular guys at school, listening intently to Averman tell one of his patented jokes. "And then the Scotsman stood up in disbelief and screamed 'Walk PR-R-OUD, man! Walk proud!"
Nick and Ryan burst out laughing. "Dude, this guy is going to make me shit my shorts!" Ryan exclaimed.
Charlie, Portman, Fulton, Barry, Jason and Preston played Texas Hold 'Em on the Banks' fine and expensive dining table, and things were getting heated in a friendly way. Fulton slammed his cards onto the table and raised his fist in triumph. "That's right, you bastard—I saw that bluff coming from a mile away!" The other guys groaned and simultaneously threw their cards at him. Charlie looked up and met Adam's eye, and the two best friends grinned at each other.
Goldberg and Kenny sat on the stairs of the house with Keller Paxson and Georgina Frederickson, Nick and Ryan's impossibly beautiful girlfriends. Adam laughed out loud as he watched Keller and Georgina give the two boys amateur palm readings. What was even funnier, however, was how seriously Goldberg was taking it. "So, that little crevice there, is that supposed to signify my future happiness with Uma Thurman or Alyssa Milano?"
Derek Martin, who was known as a supreme partier but was simply a hockey purist at heart, was sprawled out on the carpet with Dwayne and Russ. Various newspapers with early NHL season previews were strewn all over. The three of them had highlighters out, from who-knows-where, and were discussing the advantages and disadvantages of a rumored trade.
"Look at you two, all sappy and romantic...It's making me slightly sick." Julie regarded Connie and Guy with mock disdain. For the past few days, the couple had been inseparable. Both Zach Graft and Francesca Nielson were unexpectedly amiable about being dumped. "I guess I'm okay with losing out to a junior chump just because you're meant for him," Zach had said to Connie with a grin. At the moment, Connie was playfully nibbling on Guy's ear.
Julie made a puking gesture down her throat with her finger. "Seriously, you guys, the gag factor here with all the PDA is off the charts. I think—" All of a sudden Julie stopped speaking as a new person entered through the Banks' foyer.
At first Julie's expression was one of startled shock, but in a second she stood up and ran to the figure with boundless energy. "Scooter!" Julie flung herself without abandon towards Scooter and he caught her, laughing as he carried her over his shoulder. Adam was almost as happy (but obviously not in that romantic way) as Julie was to see his friend.
"Hey, man, it's awesome to see you." The two slapped hands in one of those mysterious male handshakes. "Thanks for coming—I thought you'd get all caught up in your exciting college life to make time for your lowly junior friend."
"Yeah, well, you know what they say—don't forget the little people," Scooter joked. Inconspicuously, he whispered in Adam's ear, "So, you're not mad at me for giving you the recommendation, right?" referring to the captain position.
Adam shook his head. "No, not at all. Thanks for believing in me. It's worked out better than I ever expected."
Scooter grinned. "I always knew you had it in you, even when you didn't know. Good luck, man, even though I know you don't need it."
Suddenly Adam felt arms drape around his shoulder's from behind. "Hey, babe—your parents want to light the cake now." Adam turned around and smiled at Tamsin. In all the hoopla of the beginning of school and the hockey season, she had given him all the space he needed and Adam was grateful for that. He was lucky for that, and lucky for a number of other things. Adam was about to protest at the archaic and somewhat childish birthday tradition, but suddenly he had a burst of inspiration.
He let Tamsin lead him by the hand where his parents set up the cake and candles. All the other activity ceased and everyone gathered around. The candles flickered and everyone was mesmerized. Tamsin nudged Adam's arm. "Go ahead, make a wish."
Everyone looked at Adam expectantly, and he looked back, taking in all of the happy and contented expressions. The moment was magical, and Adam thought about his birthday wish. It was so obvious that Adam almost laughed aloud.
My wish is that—no matter how things change, we all grow up and people come and go—we'll continue to feel the way we do right now. We can't be afraid of change—we have to embrace it and all the new challenges that it brings. That is what life is all about. Adam blew out all 18 candles, 17 plus one to grow on, and for him it signified not only the beginning of a new year, but a new era.
The next Monday morning, exactly a week from their first appointment, Portman sat waiting in Mr. Turner's office. After a week with his toughened-up schedule and several nights of thinking, Portman was still not sure if he had made his decision and was anxious to keep his appointment with the academic counselor.
The door behind Portman was pushed open and he could hear Mr. Turner enter, humming a tune. Turner, not expecting to see anyone in his office, gave out a yelp and spilled the cup of coffee he was holding all over his freshly-pressed dress shirt.
"Oh, shit!" Neither of them was quite sure who yelled the obscenity and there was a panicked outburst in the room. Portman grabbed a fistful of tissues from the box on Turner's desk and handed them to him quickly.
After the two of them had calmed down, Mr. Turner deadpanned in his most serious and composed voice. "That was really hot."
As Portman heard his relaxed voice, he took in Turner's stained shirt, tousled hair and red face. There was a silence in the office—and then Portman laughed. He laughed harder than he remembered ever laughing in the presence of a school administrator. Turner took in Portman's stooped-over, cackling figure and started laughing, too. That moment was critical to Portman—it assured him that he could trust Mr. Turner.
"So, Mr. Portman, I imagine you're here to talk about your schedule. What did you decide?" Mr. Turner put on an air of nonchalance, but he waited intently for Dean's answer.
Portman's face was enigmatic. "Do you really think that I could go to college?"
"You are a young man with so much promise, Mr. Portman. I knew when you enrolled at this school that you could bring something special and unique to this campus—and I have not been disappointed. I think any college would be lucky to have you." Mr. Turner spoke with all the sincerity that he possessed.
Portman was not quite convinced. "What about my record, Mr. Turner? I've been to three different juvies before I was 14. I think that all those colleges are going to take one look at my application and laugh their asses off, before sending me off to rejection oblivion."
Portman put on a tough front, but Mr. Turner could see that deep down, he was just afraid of being rejected, feeling like he wasn't good enough. "On the contrary, Dean—most universities now include a comprehensive review in their admissions process. Along with grades, strength of schedule, extracurricular activities and test scores, schools are now looking very closely at personal circumstance in making their decisions."
Portman knew what Mr. Turner was saying but wanted him to elaborate. "And that means?"
"The fact that you do have such a storied past, and have succeeded in spite of it—that's a real testament to your character. Coupled with your good grades, excellent test scores, tough class schedule and hockey experience, I don't think you'll have any problem gaining admission to almost any college that you could imagine." Mr. Turner paused. "That is, of course, if you decide to keep the schedule you have right now. What do you say?"
Portman sat in thought while Mr. Turner sat in suspense. "Well, I've always been a Michigan football fan—maybe I'll go there."
Mr. Turner looked at Portman for a long moment, an indescribable look in his eyes. Inexplicably to Portman, Mr. Turner stood up and left his desk to stand in front of him, placing his hands on Portman's shoulders. "Are you sure about this?"
Portman nodded, and he was more certain than he initially thought. "Yes."
"Fantastic!" Before Portman had time to react, Mr. Turner enveloped him in a hug. Portman smiled in spite of himself, not particularly used to having someone care so much about his future, and hugged him back.
It was September 9th, and all had gathered at the Banks residence to celebrate Adam's 17th birthday. The Ducks were there, of course—Adam could not imagine spending his day with anybody else. Surprisingly, however, Adam also invited his senior teammates. For some reason, the day would not seem right without them. Even more surprising, all of them had come. Adam looked around and smiled.
There was Nick Harden and Ryan Hudson, two of the most popular guys at school, listening intently to Averman tell one of his patented jokes. "And then the Scotsman stood up in disbelief and screamed 'Walk PR-R-OUD, man! Walk proud!"
Nick and Ryan burst out laughing. "Dude, this guy is going to make me shit my shorts!" Ryan exclaimed.
Charlie, Portman, Fulton, Barry, Jason and Preston played Texas Hold 'Em on the Banks' fine and expensive dining table, and things were getting heated in a friendly way. Fulton slammed his cards onto the table and raised his fist in triumph. "That's right, you bastard—I saw that bluff coming from a mile away!" The other guys groaned and simultaneously threw their cards at him. Charlie looked up and met Adam's eye, and the two best friends grinned at each other.
Goldberg and Kenny sat on the stairs of the house with Keller Paxson and Georgina Frederickson, Nick and Ryan's impossibly beautiful girlfriends. Adam laughed out loud as he watched Keller and Georgina give the two boys amateur palm readings. What was even funnier, however, was how seriously Goldberg was taking it. "So, that little crevice there, is that supposed to signify my future happiness with Uma Thurman or Alyssa Milano?"
Derek Martin, who was known as a supreme partier but was simply a hockey purist at heart, was sprawled out on the carpet with Dwayne and Russ. Various newspapers with early NHL season previews were strewn all over. The three of them had highlighters out, from who-knows-where, and were discussing the advantages and disadvantages of a rumored trade.
"Look at you two, all sappy and romantic...It's making me slightly sick." Julie regarded Connie and Guy with mock disdain. For the past few days, the couple had been inseparable. Both Zach Graft and Francesca Nielson were unexpectedly amiable about being dumped. "I guess I'm okay with losing out to a junior chump just because you're meant for him," Zach had said to Connie with a grin. At the moment, Connie was playfully nibbling on Guy's ear.
Julie made a puking gesture down her throat with her finger. "Seriously, you guys, the gag factor here with all the PDA is off the charts. I think—" All of a sudden Julie stopped speaking as a new person entered through the Banks' foyer.
At first Julie's expression was one of startled shock, but in a second she stood up and ran to the figure with boundless energy. "Scooter!" Julie flung herself without abandon towards Scooter and he caught her, laughing as he carried her over his shoulder. Adam was almost as happy (but obviously not in that romantic way) as Julie was to see his friend.
"Hey, man, it's awesome to see you." The two slapped hands in one of those mysterious male handshakes. "Thanks for coming—I thought you'd get all caught up in your exciting college life to make time for your lowly junior friend."
"Yeah, well, you know what they say—don't forget the little people," Scooter joked. Inconspicuously, he whispered in Adam's ear, "So, you're not mad at me for giving you the recommendation, right?" referring to the captain position.
Adam shook his head. "No, not at all. Thanks for believing in me. It's worked out better than I ever expected."
Scooter grinned. "I always knew you had it in you, even when you didn't know. Good luck, man, even though I know you don't need it."
Suddenly Adam felt arms drape around his shoulder's from behind. "Hey, babe—your parents want to light the cake now." Adam turned around and smiled at Tamsin. In all the hoopla of the beginning of school and the hockey season, she had given him all the space he needed and Adam was grateful for that. He was lucky for that, and lucky for a number of other things. Adam was about to protest at the archaic and somewhat childish birthday tradition, but suddenly he had a burst of inspiration.
He let Tamsin lead him by the hand where his parents set up the cake and candles. All the other activity ceased and everyone gathered around. The candles flickered and everyone was mesmerized. Tamsin nudged Adam's arm. "Go ahead, make a wish."
Everyone looked at Adam expectantly, and he looked back, taking in all of the happy and contented expressions. The moment was magical, and Adam thought about his birthday wish. It was so obvious that Adam almost laughed aloud.
My wish is that—no matter how things change, we all grow up and people come and go—we'll continue to feel the way we do right now. We can't be afraid of change—we have to embrace it and all the new challenges that it brings. That is what life is all about. Adam blew out all 18 candles, 17 plus one to grow on, and for him it signified not only the beginning of a new year, but a new era.